Big Yellow Taxi
by gillyflower34
Summary: Daryl's brother is always making him go places he doesn't want to go. When Merle drags him to an outdoor market, Daryl gets his food stolen from him by a large dog. He gets more than he bargained for when he falls for the dog's owner. AU version of my story Under Your Spell. No zombies. Rated M for language and eventual sexual content.
1. Chapter 1

Big Yellow Taxi

Chapter 1

 **** I got the idea for this story while I was listening to the Joni Mitchell song. It's going to take place in an AU with no ZA. It involves characters in it from my other story Under Your Spell. You can read this one without reading that one first, but that one is complete if you would like to read it.**

 **I had to use a little creative license when it came to Rowan's background. If you read my other story you know she is from the Twin Oaks sustainable living commnity in Virginia, which is an actual place. And we all know Daryl is from Georgia. Having them live a 5 to 6 hour drive apart was not going to work at all, so for the purposes of this story everything else about her background will remain be the same, but her community is going to be located in Georgia.**

 **As always I hope you enjoy the story and don't forget to leave me a review. ****

Daryl tried rolling over and burying his face into the cushion of the filthy couch he was sleeping on. He heard his brother's heavy tread, practically shaking the whole trailer as the man crossed the room to approach him. The next thing Daryl felt was the flimsy blanket had he been sleeping under being unceremoniously yanked away from his body as Merle pelted him in the head with an empty beer can. A swallow of stale beer was left in the can and Daryl wrinkled up his nose at the foul smell of the liquid as it splashed the couch cushions he was lying on.

"Get your fuckin' ass up!," Merle hissed at him. Then for good measure the man lifted his leg and brought his biker boot down on top of Daryl's ass. Not really kicking him but just stomping down on him a few times to make sure Daryl got the hint. Merle had shit to do today and sitting around some whore's dumpy little trailer and waiting until his brother felt like waking up was not on the agenda. Also he wanted to get the hell out of dodge before the whore in question got out of the shower.

Daryl swung his arm around blindly, hoping to connect with some part of his brother's body. But Merle was already well out of smacking range. Sighing an almost silent huff of resgination, Daryl sat up and started stuffing his feet into his boots. He watched Merle as the man quietly poked through the small decorative metal canisters the woman he had slept with kept on top of her fridge. As if it wasn't bad enough that Merle had probably given that woman the clap, now he was going to steal from her as well. Daryl knew that meant she had been whatever Merle classified as a lousy lay. His brother didn't rob women he intended to try and sleep with again.

"Hell yes," Merle announced, waving a substantial looking wad of money around for Daryl to see before he stuffed the cash into his pocket. The sound of the running shower stopped. Merle cocked his head to the side for a moment, then he started gesturing to Daryl that it was time to leave. The two men hurried outside the trailer and down the rickety wooden steps. Once Merle saw there was only one bike parked outside, he started cussing under his breath.

"Told ya not to leave yer bike," Daryl reminded the man. Merle never listened. Not when he was sober. And definitely not when he was drunk. Daryl glanced nervously behind him, in the direction of the trailer they had just stepped out of. "Come'on," he said. Walking over, he swung his leg over and climbed onto his bike. Then he sat there waiting for Merle to climb on behind him.

"I ain't ridin' bitch on my own damn bike Merle," Daryl said, cutting off any discussion or argument before the words could even get out of his brother's mouth. Merle grumbled a few swear words under his breath. But in the end he climbed onto the bike behind his brother, just like Daryl knew he would. As far as Daryl was concerned, if Merle didn't like riding bitch then he should stop getting piss face drunk and leaving his bike behind.

Daryl tore out of the driveway, grateful that he remembered where they were and how they got there despite the large quantity of whiskey he had consumed the night before. The bar was only about ten minutes away, and Daryl guessed the woman his brother had picked up the night before probably frequented the place since she lived so close. That meant Daryl was going to have to put the place down on his mental check list of places they probably couldn't ever go back to.

Merle climbed off Daryl's bike and pulled the stolen money from the pocket of his jeans. He had not taken the time to count it back in that woman's trailer, so he counted to himself as he thumbed through the wad.

"Over three hundred bucks," he announced, looking rather pleased with himself, "that fuckin' butterface didn't look like she had three hundred fucking bucks did she?" Daryl didn't figure the question meritted a response. And the woman's face hadn't been that bad. Her teeth were another story. Watching his brother kiss that woman's mouth had turned Daryl's stomach. And getting out of the dim bar lighting and under the brighter lights inside her trailer had not improved her appearance.

The sun was shining bright in the sky. It was warm out, but not overwhelmingly hot. Not yet anway. Daryl was thinking he might like to go home. Take a quick shower to wash the wet dog stink of that woman's couch off himself. Then he might head out to the lake and do some fishing. Maybe even do a little rabbit hunting on the way back depending on how many fish he caught.

But Merle was digging through the saddlebags on the side of his bike. As soon as Daryl saw him whip out his cell phone he knew his simple plans for the day were about to get thrown out the window. He muttered to himself that he should have known better. Merle had a large wad of cash in his pocket. So of course he was going to want to buy drugs. A lot of drugs. Then Daryl was going to have to spend the next few days making sure Merle sold the drugs instead of doing them all himself.

A few phone calls later and Daryl was swinging his leg over his bike again. He fired up the engine and followed Merle out of the parking lot. As they drove their surroundings changed. Trash littering the front yards of trailer lots changed into maincured lawns in front of cute little houses with matching mailboxes out front. It wasn't until they pulled up into the small parking lot that Daryl recognized where they were, the Chester Street farmer's market.

"Watch my bike," Merle ordered as he swung himself off the bike and headed towards the bustle of activity inside the large market. Daryl smiled a little to himself. This was not the type of place where someone was going to tamper with either of their bikes. The blonde mom hauling her children from her minivan looked more concerned that Daryl or his brother might tamper with her.

Given their current location, Daryl let some of his tension go. The man Merle met here only sold him weed. And unlike harder drugs, Merle wouldn't be able to smoke up an entire bag of the stuff in one night. So that meant they might actually have some money left when he got done. Maybe they could pay to have their power turned back on. They still had water, but Daryl was sick of taking ice cold showers.

He had been to this market a few times. But Daryl had always waited in the parking lot before. Crowded places full of uppity rich old ladies and weird hippies weren't really his thing. But today his stomach was grumbling, reminding him he hadn't had anything to eat for breakfast. And the night before he had drunk his dinner. In the row of vendors he could see, there was a small cart selling those big soft pretzels with the chunky salt on top. The smell of good coffee was drifting out from somewhere inside and Daryl was sure he could find whoever was selling it if he followed his nose.

Daryl pulled his wallet from his back pocket and flipped it open to see what was left inside after the previous night's excursions. He still had a ten left. And a few loose ones. He figured that was enough to at least buy him some coffee and a pretzel. He could hit up Merle's theiving ass later when he needed to gas up his bike. Daryl started off in the direction he had seen the minivan lady go, dragging her children along behind her. He knew where the pretzel cart was, so he headed there first.

As he walked, Daryl took in his surroundings. He hadn't had any idea how many different types of items were being sold in this market. Lots of people were selling fresh produce, but there were also baked goods and handmade jewelry. Signs for a local hog farm caught his eye. They were selling what looked to be some very high quality meats and Daryl suddenly found himself wishing he had more than thirteen bucks to his name. Nice thick pork chops cooked up on the grill sounded a lot better than a hot pretzel and coffee.

"Free sample?," the man selling the pork offered once he saw Daryl's eyes were focused on the meat he had cooking on the small grill off to the side of the booth. Daryl shrugged and stepped forward. The man pulled a chunk of sausage off the grill and wrapped it up in a small piece of butcher paper and few napkins, warning Daryl that the meat was hot and letting him know they were having a sale on their fresh ground pork sausage links.

Daryl blew on the small chunk of meat and headed towards the pretzel cart. Once he handed over two dollar bills he was presented with a large pretzel that was also going to need to cool off a little before he bit into it. He held the food in one hand, shading his eyes with the other as he tried to figure out where the smell of coffee was coming from. Without warning, the food was suddenly snatched from his grasp. Daryl spun, looking to pummel the food theif. The offender was a large tan colored puppy with a black nose. The animal was gobbling down the food as fast as possible, even eating the bit of paper that the sausage had been wrapped up in.

"I'm so sorry." The words came with a hand placed lightly on the bare skin of Daryl's upper arm. He almost jerked away from the contact until he realized the person touching him was an attractive young woman that was looking so embarrassed she almost seemed ready to cry. "Oh Lily," the woman sighed, grabbing what was left of the leash that had been hooked to the naughty puppy's collar. She wrapped the broken end of the leash around her hand a few times to keep the puppy from running off again.

"I'm so sorry," she repeated, touching Daryl's arm again and giving him an apologetic smile, "Let me buy you another pretzel." Since the woman was standing so close to him, Daryl took the time to look her over. She was tall for a girl, only about and inch or two shorter than him. But her slender build made her appear smaller. Her hair was long and dark, the front braided back to keep it from falling into her face. A few more braids hung down from the underside of her hair and Daryl smiled when he noticed she had turkey feathers twined into them. He had always liked the look of the feathers from that particular bird. They were more colorful than one would imagine they might be, Back at the crappy trailer he shared with hsi brother, he had a long stand of them hanging aross the window in his room.

The woman had a long patterned dress on, the sort that tied around her neck and left most of her back bare. Her shoulders and the bridge of her nose were pink from the sun. While there were no other visible markings on her body, the hand that was still resting on Daryl's arm was covered in an intricate pattern of tattoos. Daryl had a trained eye and he took notice of all these small details, but the woman's most obvious feature were the freckles that were scattered over her entire body, covering every inch of visible skin.

"Don't worry about it Rowan," the man behind the pretzel cart told the woman that was touching Daryl, "It's on me." The young man fished another pretzel with a long pair of silver tongs and stuffed it into a paper wrapper before handing the treat over to Daryl. The woman removed her hand from Daryl's arm and gave the man behind the pretzel cart a big friendly smile. Her teeth were small and white, but not perfectly even. The eyetooth in the corner stuck out a little, which somehow added to her appearance instead of taking away from it. The man behind the cart must have shared Daryl's opinion of her smile because he smiled back, looking at the woman in a way that made it obvious he would be happy to give away all the pretzels he was selling if it would buy him some alone time with her. Daryl was torn between being irritated with the man for interrupting the conversation he was hoping to have with this strange woman and being grateful that he had somehow been able to learn what her name was without having to ask. Rowan. If he remembered right it was the name of a type of tree.

She thanked the pretzel man. Then as quickly as she had appeared, the woman was gone. Pulling her puppy along with her, she disappeared into the crowded market. Daryl watched her go, wishing he had been able to think of some way to strike up a conversation with her. He had never been quick on his feet when it came to women. Especially women as pretty as that one had been. Daryl thought about chasing after her, but quickly changed his mind and went off in search of the coffee he had been looking for in the first place. A girl that sweet probably wouldn't be interested in a dirty biker like him anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

Big Yellow Taxi

Chapter 2

"Today's the day," Rowan's mother informed her in a silly little sing song voice. There was nothing Rowan could do except giggle.

"You know you said that yesterday," Rowan reminded the woman as she toyed with the tiger's eye that hung on a silver chain around her neck. Not only had her mother said the same thing the day before, she had been saying it almost every day for a whole week since she had read Rowan's fortune and the Lovers card had been revealed. Lola giggled along with her daughter and pulled the young woman close, pressing a soft kiss into her freckled cheek.

"I know," the woman admitted, "but I have a special feeling about today." Tonight was a not only a full moon, it was a harvest moon. Magic and good tidings were in the air. Lola picked up a flat of herbs and set them on the large display table, her long copper hair falling forward over her shoulder. One flowering herb in particular caught her eye. She broke off a small piece of lavender from one of the small potted plants. Turning, Lola tucked it into the braids that were holding her daughter's hair back from her face. "Lavender," she told the young woman, "for luck."

Rowan's friend Ayla laughed at them both. Then she turned her back on Rowan's mother, telling the woman to put one of the small purple flowers in her hair too. It might not help, but she figured it couldn't hurt.

The two young women had grown up in what was essentially a small tight knit and almost closed community. They lived in an ecovillage, otherwise known as a sustainable living community. One of the many that had been founded back in the late sixties. Unlike many others, their group had withstood the test of time and grown in membership instead of decreasing when alternative lifestyles started to decline in popularity. Rowan and Ayla were third generation members, granddaughters of the people that had originally founded the group.

They loved their home and both women had a hard time imagining living anywhere else. But living in such a small community made it hard to meet potential partners. Most of the men the girls knew were like family, people they had grown up with since they were all small children. Since Rowan went to visit with her father on the indian reservation where he lived, she had a slightly more opportunity to meet men than her friend did. But she still hadn't met anyone that had been able to hold her attention for more than a short time.

The talk of boys and love ceased for a while as the women busied themselves getting their stand ready for the day's business. They sold small starter plants that people could take home and plant in their own gardens, fresh fruits and vegetables, fresh made goat cheese, along with fresh tofu, which was the thing that they tended to make the most money from. Rowan also had a few very rambunctious young puppies she was hoping to sell. Her dogs were pure bred bullmastiffs, and she knew they were worth up to almost two thousand dollars a piece. While the money was important, especially since she was raising it for a charitable cause she felt strongly about, she was always willing to negotiate on price to make sure her dogs would go to loving homes. The happiness and well being of the animals always came first.

Rowan set the dogs up, making sure they were in the shade and had plenty of water. One puppy had gallons more energy than the rest. Rowan had promised herself she wouldn't name the puppies, since that made it harder for her to sell them to new owners, but she had already started calling the wild one Lily. While the rest of the puppies could be trusted to stay inside the small enclosure, Lily was hooked to a leash and tied to the bumper of the truck where Rowan could keep an eye on the young escape artist.

Heading around the front of the large display table, Rowan moved a few of the signs around, making them easier to read and checking to be sure the right items were labeled with the right price. Most of the vendors knew each other, and while they were waiting for the market to open Rowan's mother walked over to chat with a woman she knew that sold beautiful hand made jewelry.

Ayla came around from the truck with a stack of small flyers in her hands. The flyers were advertising the full moon festival that was being held tonight in their community. There was going to be food, live music and most importantly lots of fun and dancing. It was a good opportunity to invite people from outside to come into their home and see how they lived. Allowing outsiders in helped people from the local area to understand that Twin Oaks was not some strange religious cult, as people often wrongly assumed it was. And once in a while it gave the members a chance to meet someone that was interested in joining their community, a rare and welcome occurance. Living off the land and sharing resources was not a lifestyle that appealed to just anyone.

"Should we just set them out?," Ayla asked, "or should we hand them out to people that look interesting?" Rowan laughed, knowing that when Ayla said people that look interesting, she actually meant men that she thought were attractive. Or any men she saw, cute or otherwise. With her hopeful smile and her big brown eyes wide with excitement, Ayla was ripe to fall in love.

"Let's do both," Rowan suggested, taking half the flyers and setting them near the front of the table where they could be easily seen by everyone that walked by. Ayla smiled, bouncing back and forth from one foot to the other, eager for what the new day would bring. Rowan felt the same anticipation. But not for the same reason. She was exctied because she loved working their stand at the farmer's market. When she was there, she got to meet and interact with many different types of people and that was something she really enjoyed.

Rowan's least favorite type of people were the wealthy older women with the oddly stretched faces. First of all, their surgically altered faces gave her the creeps. And secondly, they were rude. Those women barged in front of other shoppers like the owned the place and always seemed to be able to come up with the strangest questions for her. Like were the strawberries non GMO even though the sign above the table clearly stated that everything they sold was organic. Rowan was fairly sure most of them didn't understand what GMO even meant.

But most of the people that came to the market were much more fun than that. Rowan's favorite were the young mothers that brought their small children along. The food stamp program in the state of georgia doubled up any benefits that were spent on fresh fruits and vegetables at the farmers markets. So they got a lot of mothers and children that came to shop. Rowan recognized all of the regulars on sight. Most of them came right to her stand because they knew she would always throw in a little more food than they had the foodstamps to pay for. Plus the little children loved Rowan and liked to pet the giant black dog she often brought to the market with her.

While they waited, Ayla pulled her well loved second hand guitar from its beat up case. She stummed mindlessly at first, then started playing a Joni Mitchell song they all knew well. Rowan didn't have much of a singing voice but she sang along anyway, stopping to laugh at the men from the hog farm a few stalls down that were singing along louder and much more out of tune than she was. Ayla stopped playing and called over to them.

"Want to trade?," she asked, pulling a package of tofu from the cooler, "Tofu for some pork chops?" Her joke made the men laugh and one of them stuck his finger in his mouth, pretending he was going to lose his breakfast at the very thought of consuming pressed bean curd. "Should we give them a flyer?," Ayla whispered to her friend. Rowan shrugged.

"We can give them one later," she reminded the other woman, "they'll be here all day." Ayla nodded. Rowan was right, she didn't want to seem too eager. While people from their community valued honesty and directness, Ayla had learned that men from the outside liked their women a little more mysterious.

The first part of the morning went by quickly. On saturday mornings, the market got busy fast. Rowan even sold one of her puppies. A couple that had contacted her on the community website showed up. They had a bullmastiff that had died finally from old age and were looking for another one. Rowan let them talk her down to $1,500 for a female brindle pup with the promise that they would get the dog fixed and that she wasn't going to be used for breeding. Rowan tucked the money away in a special envelope in the glove box of the truck where she was keeping the money she planned to donate.

As she shut the truck door, Ayla was suddenly at her side. The other woman tugged at her elbow and pointed out into the parking lot. Two men had pulled up on motorcycles, parking them together in one space. They didn't look like most of the typical patrons of the farmer's market, dressed in leather vests and heavy biker boots. One man headed around the front of the market while the other one stayed by the bikes and lit up a cigarette.

"He's cute," Ayla whispered, as if the man was close enough to hear them. Rowan nodded her head in agreement with her friend. Just his arms alone made him worth staring at. Watching him suck at the cigarette that he had pinched between his fingers, Rowan felt the skin on her arms prickle up despite the heat of the day.

"Roe, Ayla, I could use some help over here," Rowan's mother called over to the girls. The stand was starting to get overwhelmed with more people than she could help at one time. Whatever those silly girls were up to, Lola figured they could do it later. Rowan hurried over to help her mother, tossing one more longing glance over her shoulder at the man in the parking lot. After that, she forgot about him quickly enough. One of Rowan's favorite customers showed up at the cart. The woman had her beautiful baby with her, secured to her chest with a colorful wrap. While she wasn't ready yet for one of her own, Rowan just loved babies. She loved their chubby little fists, their gummy smiles, and their big curious eyes. But most of all she loved the pure white light that shined out of them. All babies were full of nothing but love and sunshine.

This baby was big enough for some real food, so Rowan handed her a slice of a ripe peach. The woman's older child was allowed around behind the table to pet Lily the happy puppy. Rowan held the dog still while the little boy pet her, to keep the large puppy from jumping up and knocking him over. His mother allowed him a few pets before she called him back. Rowan placed the food the woman was buying into a large brown paper bag, making sure to throw in an extra quart of peaches for the baby.

Lily was wound up from her interaction with the child. She whined and pulled at her leash. When that got her no where she jumped up on Rowan, scratching at the woman's legs. Rowan scolded the dog, using her hand to press Lily's butt to the ground in a feeble attempt to get the excited puppy to sit on her bottom and calm down. The next thing Rowan knew the dog had lunged past her, snapping the well worn leash as she dashed off through the crowd.

"Lily," Rowan called out, her eyes wide with shock. There really weren't even any dogs allowed at the market. The owner of the place allowed her to bring the puppies because he knew she was raising money for charity. And because Rowan's mother had put her hand on his arm and given him her prettiest and friendliest smile. But if Lily scared anyone or made a mess, that little arragement might be over in a real big hurry. Rowan darted out from behind the table and took off after her puppy. Her dress swished around her legs as she moved as fast as she could without slamming into people.

Lucky for her, Lily had not gone too far. Rowan figured she had been after the boy that had been petting her, but apparently the dog was after food. Lily was wolfing down something she had on the ground and since she was in front of the pretzel stand, Rowan figured it wasn't too far fetched to assume the dog was eating a pretzel she had taken from someone. And not just any someone. Rowan suddenly felt like she could feel her heart beating in her ears. The biker she had been admiring out in the parking lot was standing in front of the stand. His hand was open and empty and he was staring down at the naughty dog with a look of shock on his face.

Rowan felt like her legs were no longer attached to her body. Before she knew what she was doing she was touching the man. Her slim fingers resting against the thick muscles of his arm. She had the sudden urge to give his arm a little squeeze, just to see if he felt as strong as he looked. Rowan fought that urge and smiled at him instead.

"I'm so sorry," she told the man, making a lame attempt to apologize for Lily's extremely rude behavior. Rowan leaned down and grabbed up what was left of Lily's leash. "Oh Lily," she mumbled, secretly thanking Lily for being so naughty. She had given Rowan the perfect chance to talk to this man. Unfortunately, Rowan felt like her brain was suddenly unable to function properly. Her tounge felt like it was glued the roof of her mouth and all she could think about was how much more handsome this man looked up close. His eyes were the color of the sky after a rain and the blonde scruff on his chin was sprinkled with just enough white hairs to signify that he was a man and not just another silly boy like all the other silly boys she knew.

"I'm sorry," Rowan repeated, feeling more and more ridiculous as each second ticked by. She was touching the man again, even though it wasn't really proper to be feeling the arm of man who's name she didn't even know yet. The man smiled at her. Not a wide toothy grin, but more of a shy hesitant smile. She felt like her heart might explode at any moment. He was even better looking when he smiled. "Let me buy you another pretel," she offered, suddenly remembering why she was talking to the man in the first place.

Before the man could say anything, the guy who ran the pretzel cart spoke up. "Don't worry about it Rowan," he told her, "It's on me." His voice reminded Rowan that she was in a crowded market. The thoughts she was having about the man she was touching were not exactly G rated. Rowan snatched her hand back, forcing it down to her side when she would have much rather kept touching the man. Maybe even stroking up his arm and over his shoulder to cup his face in her palm. After that her thumb would stroke over his lips and find out if they were as soft as they looked.

Rowan remembered her manners and turned her attention to the man she knew that ran the pretzel cart. What was his name? Her mind was still filled with the images she had of the man she had been touching. She saw the man that ran the pretzel cart almost every week. He knew her name and she ought to know his, but nothing was coming to mind except more preverted thoughts about the man who's food Lily had stolen.

"Thank you so much," Rowan told the nameless pretzel man. Instead of thanking him by name she gave him a big smile, which seemed to suit him just fine because he smiled back at her. Before she could embarrass herself further Rowan hurried away from both the men, dragging Lily along behind her. It wasn't until she was sitting behind her booth, her breathing and heart rate finally back under control that she realized she never even asked the biker his name.


	3. Chapter 3

Big Yellow Taxi

Chapter 3

There were cops hanging around this market. He hadn't spotted any yet, but at a big outdoor shopping spot like this, there had to be pigs lurking around somewhere. Merle had at least five years prison worth of pot in the front pocket of his leather vest and he had no interest in trying to make a run for it through five packed aisles of shoppers, vendors and tables full of vegetables. Taking the quickest way back to the bikes, he was careful not to walk too fast. His rough appearance was already earing him stares from small children and rich old ladies carrying baskets and fancy reuseable shopping bags.

Weaving between minivans and sedans, he approached the spot where he left his bike. Once Merle got there he cursed. Not under his breath like he should have but very loudly, earning him a very dirty look from a nearby mother that was busy snapping her brats into their car seats. She looked like she was thinking about saying something so Merle glared at her. The woman practically leaped into her car, hitting the automatic lock button before her door was even shut.

Merle chuckled under his breath as he mumbled to himself, "Don't flatter yerself sweetheart, yer not my type." After his momentary amusement over the woman's obvious fear faded away, Merle's annoyance at his wayward brother returned with a vengence. He told Daryl's stupid ass to stay and watch the bikes. And now the dumbfuck was nowhere to be found. Merle lit up a smoke and paced around, hoping that maybe Daryl had just gone for a piss and was on his way back. But once he had smoked his cigarette down to the filter there was still no sign of Daryl.

Merle was torn between his distaste for waiting in the parking lot until his idiot brother finally decided to show back up and his desire not to go back into the crowded market. Never a patient man, after a few more seconds Merle flicked his cigarette butt to the ground and stomped on it with his boot as he headed back the way he had come. He cursed again, much quieter this time. Like he figured there would be, now there were cops standing at the front entrance of the place. The black one cast a suspicious glance in Merle's direction as he walked by.

"Swear if I get pinched up looking for Daryl in this goddamn market like he's a three year old lost in the fuckin' mall I am beating his fuckin' ass," Merle mumbed to himself, "beatin' that ass fer real this time." Daryl had one fucking job. Watch the damn bikes. Fucker couldn't even get that right.

Lucky for Merle it only took him a few minutes to spot his brother. Daryl was leaning against one of the support poles that held up the roof of the place. Merle had tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, thinking maybe he had some important business to do inside this place. But he wasn't doing anything at all. Daryl was leaning against a pole, keeping himself slightly out of the flow of traffic, sipping on a cup of coffee like he didn't have a care in the world.

Usually Daryl was on high alert. Listening and watching everything around him. But Merle was able to get almost on top of him before the younger man even noticed he was there. His gaze was focused on something a little further down the aisle of vendors with such intensity that Merle had to elbow at him before Daryl even acknowledged his presence.

"Oh," Daryl huffed his surprise at the sudden contact. He turned his head, realizing it was only his brother that was poking at him. "Hey." He offered up only a simple greeting, then turned back to whatever he had been staring at before his brother showed up. Merle's anger drained away, quickly replaced by curiosity. He had never seen his brother this interested in anything that he wasn't getting ready to shoot with a bow. He followed Daryl's line of sight, snorting out a laugh when he finally realized why his brother had been missing from the parking lot. Girls. Daryl was in here staring at girls.

There were two of them. One with blonde hair and one with dark hair. They were both a little on the skinny side, but not bad looking. Merle didn't see anything special enough about either one of them to hold Daryl's interest with such intensity. But then again Daryl had strange taste in women. He was a picky little motherfucker too. So if Daryl saw something he actually liked, Merle figured he would go ahead and help a little brother out.

Merle watched the young women for a few moments, just like Daryl was doing. They obviously knew they were being watched. They kept smiling in his and Daryl's direction and giggling together. This was going to be easy.

"Which one?," Merle asked, shoving his elbow into Daryl's ribs for the second time.

"What the hell you mean?," Daryl hissed back. He took a sip of his overpriced but better than he thought it would be coffee and crossed his arms. Merle knew he hated it when he got up in his personal space like that. Daryl could feel him breathing he was so close.

"Which one o'them girls you staring at dumbass?," Merle asked. Daryl narrowed his eyes, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation.

"Don't fuckin' go over there Merle," Daryl muttered, knowing it was hopeless. No matter what he said, he knew he was about to be publicly humilitated. He should have gone back to the bikes when he had the chance. Instead he had stayed here staring at that damn girl and now Merle was involved. And whenever Merle got involved, things went bad in a hurry.

"Call dibs now or I'm takin' my pick," Merle informed him. Then he made a very annoying clicking noise with his tounge, like a timer that was counting down. When Daryl refused to answer, Merle finally shrugged his shoulders and started off towards the two women. He only made it about a half a step before Daryl grabbed him by the edge of his vest and hissed at him again.

"The dark haired one," Daryl admitted. Normally he would never admit to liking a girl, especially not to his asshole brother. But the thought of Merle going over there and hitting on that woman made him sick to his stomach. Mostly because he knew whatever Merle said to her would proably gain him access to her vagina. Daryl could never figure it out. The man was a complete and total asshole at all times. But Merle always had good luck with women. They loved him. Until they didn't anymore. But by then the man had always gotten what he wanted out of them already.

Merle snorted. He had guessed Daryl was after the blonde girl. She had bigger tits. Merle shrugged it off, figuring it was all the better for him. Then he started moving again. To Daryl's absolute horror, his brother grabbed him by the elbow and started dragging him along like a trailer behind a truck. Daryl tried jerking away, but the bastard had a strong grip on him. If he wanted to get loose, he would have to fight Merle. Since there were people all around them, some who were already staring at the two men because Merle had almost run them over, Daryl quickly decided that he didn't want to make an even bigger scene and allowed himself to be dragged along towards the girl's vegetable stand. He tossed his mostly empty coffee cup into a trash barrel as they passed it by.

"Hey there ladies," Merle drawled, giving them both his biggest and most charming smile. Now that he was up close to the girls, he assesed their looks again. The dark haired girl was completely coated in freckles. And the blonde one had a stumpy little pig nose. However, these imperfections were greatly made up for by the fact that both women were young and slim and there was not a bra to be seen between the two of them. Neither of them was wearing makeup. Another plus. Merle had seen some good looking women that turned into horrible evil witches once their faces melted off.

"Good afternoon." It was the dark haired girl that spoke. The blonde one only giggled. The dark haired girl spoke to Merle but she was looking at Daryl. Her cheeks were pink and she was smiling at him. She bit at her bottom lip, waiting expectantly for Daryl to speak to her, but of course he was staring at the ground like he forgot how to talk english. "I'm sorry again about earlier," she added, dipping her head down to try and catch his eye.

"S'alright," Daryl mumbled. There was an awkward moment of silence. Merle waited, hoping Daryl had the sense to strike up a conversation with this woman and wondering what in the hell happened earlier that she was apologizing for. When it became obvious that Daryl wasn't going to say boo to a goose, Merle opened his mouth to speak again. He was cut off by the slightly older woman that was running the stand with the two younger ones. She hadn't caught Merle's attention at first, but he noticed her now. Something about the way the way the woman was looking at him gave him the chills despite the heat of the day. He felt like she could see inside his head.

"Girls," the woman said, "go take a break by the truck." Rowan's mother would have rather they stayed where she could see them. She approved of the younger man that her daughter had her eye on. But the other one gave her a bad vibe. He radiated insincerity. But be that as it was, the men were clogging up the front of her table and people that actually wanted to shop were shuffling around behind them, not wanting to get too close.

Rowan motioned for the two men to follow her. The older man seemed eager and she watched to make sure the man she wanted to speak to was following behind him. They had to turn sideways to squeeze between her table and the next vendor over. Rowan led them over next to the small gated area where she had her puppies penned up.

"Merle," the older man said, sticking his hand at Ayla first. Shaking hands might seem lame, but he had found it was a sure fire way to gauge women. How quickly they grabbed for his hand let him know how easy it would be to get them into bed. The blonde girl reached for his hand right away, telling him her name was Ayla. A strange name, but at least it wasn't something he couldn't pronouce. He planned to hold onto her hand a while, maybe clasp it between the both of his but she beat him to it.

"Blessed be," she told him with a smile. Clasping his hands between both her smaller ones, she held on and gave an odd little courtsy. She bent her knees and lowered her hips slightly, but kept her head up. It was a little weird, but he had seen weirder shit than that. When she moved to pull her hands back he kept hold of her a moment longer, stroking his thumb across the back of her hand. Then he stuck his hand out to the other woman.

She reached for him quickly, but not in the same way the other girl had done. It felt more like she wanted to get the physical contact over with as quickly as possible. She didn't do the same weird courtsy, but she did say the same thing as the other girl.

"Blessed be," she said, "I'm Rowan." Her voice was more formal and less flirty than Ayla. And she was smiling at Daryl the whole time like she couldn't wait to shake his hand. Merle had to fight back the urge to swear at his brother. This girl, Rowan, was staring at him again and waiting for him to make a move. And what was that idiot doing? He was ignoring her completely, petting a couple puppies like he was five years old instead of a grown man.

"This 'ere is Daryl," Merle finally announced, kicking at his brother's ankles to try and get him to stop messing around with the damn dogs, "my baby brotha." Merle was about to kick the dumbass again when Rowan moved forward and did the hard work for him.

Rowan couldn't stop smiling. This man was so handsome. And she could tell by the way he was touching her dogs that he liked animals. The other man she wasn't so sure about. He seemed friendly enough but when she touched him something happened. She blinked while he was shaking her hand and got a flash image. This was not totally usual for her. Sometimes she got a glimpse of a favorite pet or a loved one. But this time she had seen a pile of money. A large pile that was covered in drops of blood. She didn't like it. Once Merle let go of her she yanked her hand back and wiped it off on her dress.

Daryl watched the woman out of the corner of his eye while he petted the dogs. So he saw her coming. She touched him on the arm again like she had in front of the pretzel cart. Like it had earlier, the feel of her hand gave him a jolt. He was glad his shirt was untucked and loose, because she was standing close enough that he could smell her and he was pretty sure if she got any closer he was going to get a hard on.

"They're bullmastiffs," Rowan explained since he seemed interested in her dogs.

"Where's the one that jumped me?," Daryl asked her with a grin. That made her smile even bigger and she moved just a fraction of an inch closer to him. Her hair smelled like peaches and sandalwood oil and her eyelashes were so long he wondered how she even made it through the day without getting them all tangled up while she was blinking.

"Chained to the back of the truck," Rowan admitted. She was impressed. Most of her dogs looked a lot alike and this man had been able to tell that Lily wasn't in the pen with the rest of them. Daryl laughed out loud before he could stop himself. He had not been expecting this gentle woman to announce that she had chained a dog to her truck. He laughed and then he covered his mouth like he was embarrassed at himself for laughing. That made Rowan laugh. Unlike his, her laughter was musical and unapologetic.

Merle cleared his throat. This dog talk wasn't getting anyone anywhere. "What are you ladies doing tonight?," he asked. There was no point in beating around the bush and making more small talk. In his experience, which was extensive, women usually responded to being asked out in such a direct way.

"Oh," Ayla squeaked out, getting a very excited look on her face. She scurried away and returned with a small white square of paper, which she handed to Merle. He squinted at the flyer. "We're having a full moon festival," she explained.

"All are welcome," Rowan added. She smiled at Daryl again, her hand still resting on his arm. All visitors were welcome. But it was possible that a certain handsome man with strong arms and eyes as blue as the cloudless sky was just a little more welome than everyone else.

"Twin Oaks," Merle read. He squinted at the smaller print on the flyer. Then he did what Merle always did. Opened his big mouth and inserted his foot directly into it. "This is that fucking hippie commune out past highway 20. You girls know those freaks?"

"We are those freaks," Rowan informed him without missing a beat, "We live there." She didn't seem as upset as Daryl thought she might be. He guessed this wasn't the first time she had heard a comment like the one Merle just made. And Merle was a first class fucking idiot. Where did he think these girls were from? They were selling vegetables directly under a giant rainbow sign that said fucking Twin Oaks right on it. Moron.

"Well, well, well," Merle clucked, rubbing at his chin with his hand as he tried to think of a way to weasle out of his comment. The blonde girl wasn't smiling, but she hadn't stormed off yet either. He smiled a big grin at her and leaned in close enough that she could feel his breath. "Nothin' wrong with getting a little freaky," he whispered. Ayla giggled, leaning away like she had been scandalized but then moving closer again and letting him touch her.

Merle's quiet voice was only a notch lower than his loud voice, so Rowan heard what he said to her friend. To Daryl's relief she laughed at the joke. Then she spoke quietly to Daryl. Rowan thought he looked worried about his brother's comment and he didn't need to be. They got comments like that all the time. She was used to it. The weirdo questions people would ask her were even worse. Like did they have sex orgies out there or how many sister wives did she have? Did they slaughter goats as a sacrifice? Was she part of a cult? That one was the stupidest question of all. She didn't know much about cults, but she was pretty sure the whole point of them was not to let the members involved know they were in one. Rowan tried her best to be kind to everyone but she had lost her patience once and told an especially rude and nosy woman who accosted her in Farm and Fleet that yes she was in fact part of a cult and that she planned to shave her head once the grand goat master impregnated her anus with a thousand hissing snakes. Rowan's mom said she wasn't allowed to go back to that store anymore.

"It's okay," she assured Daryl, "people say stuff like that all the time." The comment was accompanied by a roll of her eyes and a slight shake of her head. Aside from noticing that she was slightly annoyed by his brother, which pleased him in some small way, Daryl also noticed that Rowan had a slight accent. One he hadn't heard before. He thought about asking her about it, but after Merle's idiot comment he was afraid he might offend her further.

"So what time does this freakshow start?," Merle asked the girls, waving the flyer around. Rowan tried not to laugh, but ended up laughing anyway. What the man lacked in manners he made up for in confidence, she would give him that.

"It's already going on," Ayla told him. Merle was still standing close to her, one arm wrapped around her waist and his hand resting on her hip.

'The sex orgies don't start until after 7," Rowan informed the man. If he wanted to be a smartass, she would treat him like one.

Daryl choked on his own spit and started coughing. Rowan lifted her hand and gave him a few whacks on the back. Once he had control of himself she made sure to explain that she was only joking. "I'm sorry, it's the live music that starts at 7," she said, her hand still lingering on top of Daryl's shoulder. Merle was laughing like a jackass, half at her comment and half because of the look on Daryl's face when she made it.

"We will see you ladies after 7 then," Merle announced. His hand was resting on the girl's waist and he liked what he felt. She had a nice firm body under her flowy dress. He let his hand slide down, giving her ass a firm squeeze. She jumped a little, like she was surprised by his advances. But then she giggled. He smiled at the girl, thinking about how he was definitely getting himself a piece of her later. If she was going to let him grab her ass in a public market, then he knew she was going to let him do a lot more than that once he got her alone.

Merle was ready to go. Preferably before he said anything worse and ruined this for himself. However, Daryl was showing no signs of heading towards the bikes anytime soon. He and the dark haired girl with the smart mouth weren't even talking. They were just standing there staring at each other. Merle reached over and smacked Daryl in the chest to get his attention. When that didn't work he grabbed his brother by the vest he was wearing and started hauling him towards the parking lot.

"Uh, bye," Daryl told her. Rowan had her hand on his shoulder. As he moved away from her, she let it trail down his arm to his hand. She grasped his hand in hers for just a moment before his brother dragged him away. In that split second she saw it. A navy blue handkerchief was hanging from the back pocket of his pants. She didn't know why she focused on that detail but it seemed important for some reason unknown to her.

Daryl looked back at her once before he disappeared from sight. Ayla was already hurrying back to help Lola with the customers, but Rowan lingered by the truck. The same hand she had touched Daryl with came up to grab the tiger's eye that hung from a silver chain around her neck. She had deja-vu before but what she felt when she touched Daryl's hand was something different and far more powerful. Images came at her in rapid fire, so quick she could hardly make sense of them.

She was standing naked in a street she had never seen before, wearing nothing but the hanky she had seen in Daryl's pocket tied around one ankle. That image came more than once. Then she was riding a black horse with Daryl seated behind her, his arms around her waist. They were standing in the woods together and her spirit animal was there, along with the brother she had just met. Expect the man looked years younger and was dressed like he was in the military. In the last image Rowan was lying back on a table. Her mother's friend Robin was there, along with Rowan's father. He and Daryl were touching her stomach and she could feel life stiring inside her. The image was so strong she dropped her necklace and placed her hand flat against her stomach to reassure herself that the image wasn't real.

Rowan took a few deep breaths and tried to clear her head. She wasn't sure what had just happened to her. If she had to guess she would say she had possibly seen images from another life. Maybe even another reality. But Daryl was clearly tied up in all of it somehow. Maybe he was her soulmate or the key to something else in her life's path. She wasn't really sure. But there was one thing that she was sure of. After today her life was never going to be the same again.


	4. Chapter 4

Big Yellow Taxi

Chapter 4

Item by colorful item Rowan pulled each piece of clothing she had from inside the small closet she shared with her mother. She held the clothes up in front of her, turning back and forth in front of the old faded mirror that hung on the wall in her mother's room. The glass was foggy in spots and most of Rowan's reflection was blocked by a picture someone had painted on the face of the mirror. It usually served as no more than a piece of art, since neither Rowan nor her mother ever spent much time looking at themselves. After staring at herself for the last twenty minutes straight, Rowan now remembered why she hated mirrors.

Looking at her reflection, all Rowan could focus on were the little things about herself that she didn't like. She was too tall. Too thin. Her breasts were too small and her eyebrows were too thick. She needed a haircut in the worst way. Her clothes, all of which she owned because they were made of beautiful or soft fabric and made her feel happy when she wore them, now just didn't look right to her. She wanted something that would make her look like a normal woman and not some kind of weird hippie. Rowan wanted to look like the kind of woman that she thought the man she met at the market earlier would like.

"What do bikers like?," Rowan asked the large black dog that had long since grow bored with the fashion show she was putting on. Tank had watched her with interest for the first few minutes, mostly in the hopes that she was pulling on the old worn demin shorts and tank top that meant she was getting ready to take him out to the lake for a swim. But after it became clear that swimming and playing ball was not on the agenda, the giant dog had retreated to her mother's bed where he lay down with his head resting on his paws and his eyes shut. The sound of his mistresses voice alerted him and he raised his head, opening his large brown eyes to look at her.

Rowan was naked except for a skimpy pair of black lace panties. She held a long black dress up in front of her body, her face scrunched up at the thought of wearing something that was really too hot for the weather. Seeing that there was no great emergency, Tank laid his head back down and rolled over onto his back. He wriggled around, mussing up the quilts on Rowan's mother's bed as he fought to scratch and itch that he couldn't reach with his paws or muzzle. Rowan laughed at the silly dog.

"Big help you are Tank," she scolded, her tone light and teasing. Rowan took one more look in the mirror with the black dress held up in front of her body before she hurled it to the ground with the rest of her clothes. Since the closet was empty, she started sifting through the mess on the floor of the bedroom, hoping something she had already discarded would jump out at her.

There was a soft tap on the door before it was swung quietly open. Rowan heard her mother's musical laughter drift in from the doorway. People were starting to arrive for the festival and Rowan was supposed to be helping her welcome them. It wasn't like Rowan to shirk her duties, so when she hadn't shown up her mother had become increasingly worried and eventually decided to come and look for her. Lola had not been expecting to find her daughter naked in the middle of what looked like a tornado mess of clothing. At the sound of Lola's laughter, Tank rolled and hurried down off the woman's bed. He sat down on his haunches and gave her a look of complete innocence. One that said of course I wasn't on your bed because being on your bed is against the rules.

"Roe?," her mother asked, after stopping to laugh at the guilty look on Tank's face, "what on earth are you doing in here?" Rowan threw her hands up and let out and exasperated sigh. Trying to look nice for a boy she liked. That's what she was doing. And since she was still standing around in her underpants, she figured she wasn't doing a very good job at it either. Her mother entered the room, crossing the space between them and pulling her daughter into her arms. She held the young woman close, stroking her long dark hair.

"If he likes you, he won't care what you have on," Rowan's mother assured her. Rowan nodded and let her mother lead her out of the ankle deep pile of clothes she was wading around in. Her mother plucked a top from the pile and handed it to her. It was an olive green halter style top that tied around the neck and the middle of her back. Rowan tied it on. As she adjusted it she remembered that she liked this particular top best because the fabric cups on it fit her chest just right. Next her mother tossed her a long flowy skirt. The floral pattern of the material had little flecks of the same green color the top was made of.

As Rowan dressed her mother quickly righted the wild mess she had made. Hanging dresses back on their hangers and tucking the rest of the clothing back into the drawers of her dresser. When Lola pulled open the large bottom drawer, something caught her eye. A fringed scarf that had belonged to her mother. It was cream colored, the material soft and worn from years of wear. The scarf had belonged to her mother, and then to her. The last time she wore it was the day she met Rowan's father. He had come upon her when she was bathing in the creek and she had used the scarf to hide her nude body from his stranger's eyes. At least until she changed her mind and decided she wanted him to look at her. Then she had spread the scarf out on the soft grass of the creek bed and let that strange boy with the long raven hair and the peircing eyes make love to her.

When she clutched the fabric of the scarf, Lola could feel the magic in it. She saved the scarf with the intention of giving it to Rowan for her handbinding once her wild daughter finally fell in love and stopped running so wild. But now Lola knew she had noticed it there in the drawer for a reason. Rowan was meant to have the scarf, and she was meant to have it now.

Rowan felt her eyes fill with water, a few tears of happiness spilling over the brim and streaking down her cheeks. She raised her arms and let her mother tie the scarf around her waist, knotting it just right so that the fringe would swing when she walked. Rowan closed her eyes, her hand rising up to grip the tiger's eye that hung from her neck on a silver chain. She grounded herself with a slow deep breath and willed her emotions to come back under her control. Then she looked down at the long fringed shall that was tied around her waist. To anyone else it would have appeared to be a rather ordinary item of clothing. But to Rowan it was more beautiful than anything she owned.

"Nana's special scarf," she whispered, reaching down and lifting a long silky strand of fringe. She let the material slide through her tattooed fingers before she reached for her mother. The woman was shorter than her and had been for years. Rowan got her height from her father. She wrapped her mother up into a fierce hug, more grateful than ever that she was born to the best and most loving mother in the whole entire world. Lola hugged her daughter back, feeling a swell of sadness with the joy. She knew the day would come when she would have to let go and allow her daughter to carve her own path in life. But knowing and actually feeling the release happen were two entirely different animals. Rowan felt her mother hug her back with as much emotion as she felt. Then the woman was gripping her by the waist and turning her back towards the old faded mirror with the rainbow butterflies painted across the face of it.

"You're perfect," her mother told her. Rowan wasn't so sure, but as she turned and twisted her body to get a bettter look at herself she started to smile. She didn't look like a biker. And she sure didn't look like a normal girl, whatever that meant. But she did look like herself. Rowan decided she liked that just fine.

TWD

Picking up a rumpled shirt from the floor, Daryl held it to his face and sniffed at it. An action he immediately regretted. The shirt smelled strongly of sweat and stale beer. He swore under his breath and tossed the offending piece of clothing into the corner of his room.

Daryl pulled the towel from his waist and lifted it up to rub at his hair where it was still damp from the hurried shower he had taken. Then he began digging through the clothing on his floor as fast as possible, tossing the items that were far too dirty to wear into the corner with his stinky shirt. Merle was waiting for him. And Daryl knew the longer he made Merle wait, the drunker his brother was going to get. The drunker Merle got the louder he got. And Daryl had no desire to be publicly humilated. Especially not in front of the woman he had met at the market earlier. She was not like the women his brother usually attracted. This one wasn't some slutty barfly. She was kind and sweet. He could tell. And nice girls didn't often appreciate his brother's drunken antics.

Doing the laundry never seemed to rank high on Daryl's list of priorities. He hadn't done his wash in weeks. Which meant he was now standing naked in his room, staring at a pile full of filthy clothes that smelled like dirt and looked even worse. He didn't even have any clean socks. While he didn't consider himself any sort of expert on women, Daryl was pretty sure most of them prefered men who bathed and wore clean clothes.

In the back of his mostly empty dresser, Daryl found a pair of boxers. The waistband was frayed and they were a size smaller than he liked, but at least they were clean. He pulled them on just as his bedroom door was unceremoniosuly kicked in. Merle was fully dressed, standing in the doorway of his room with one of the mason jars they used for drinking glasses in his hand. From the smell of it, he was drinking a strong glass of whiskey and coke that was already most of the way gone.

"It's six thirty fucker," Merle announced. Daryl turned his back to the man before he rolled his eyes. Of all the random things to be anal about, Merle absolutely hated being late. Being on time was one of the few disciplines that had stuck with the man after his time in the service. "Why the fuck ain't ya dressed yet?"

Daryl briefly considered telling his brother to fuck off and go without him. He wanted to go. Badly. But the more time that ticked by was more time that Daryl was spending convincing himself that there was no way that girl really liked him. She was probably just being nice and he had taken it the wrong way. Having nothing that didn't smell like hunting stink to wear was the last terrible straw in the giant pile of shit he felt like he was slowly wading into.

"Ain't got nothin' clean ta wear do ya?," Merle asked him with a laugh. Daryl squared up his shoulders, expecting the insults that were about to follow his brother's comment. But instead he felt the glass Merle was drinking from being thrust into his hand. "Drink up," Merle told him. Daryl considered the dark liquid sloshing around in mason jar he was holding. Then he lifted the glass and slurped it down, immediately grateful for the warm calming sensation that came with a cold drink.

Merle disappeared and Daryl could hear the man rustling around in his own bedroom. Then his brother reappeared, shoving a stack of clothes into him so hard that it made the air whoof out of Daryl's lungs. Merle smacked him on the back, the loud crack of his palm on Daryl's back echoing through the trailer.

"Hurry yer fuckin' sissy ass up," Merle ordered, adding with flourish that the sooner they got going the sooner he was going to get him some pussy. Daryl thought about cursing at the older man for hitting with the pile of clothes and then smacking him on his bare back. But he quickly changed his mind, deciding that having clean clothes to wear was more than worth the miniscule amount of abuse he had to withstand in order to get them. Daryl pulled on the jeans, then threaded his own black leather belt through the loopholes. Merle had given him jeans and a black tshirt to wear, which were of course much nicer quality and fit better than the cheap kmart clothes Daryl bought for himself. He hurried into what passed for their living room to put his boots on, relieved to note that Merle had gone outside for a smoke instead of going back into the kitchen and chugging another glass of whiskey down.

Daryl grabbed his leather jacket from the chair by the door and pulled it on as he headed out the door and onto the rickety set of half rotten wooden steps that was still clinging to the side of their trailer by one remaining rusty nail. The neighboring trailer was home to a mother and her slutty teenage daughter. As he came down the steps Daryl was unhappy to note that the trashy daughter in question was in his driveway, smoking one of his brother's cigarettes. Merle was nodding along to whatever idiotic story she was telling him as he stared at the way her jailbait nipples were poking at the cheap fabric of her thin tight white tank top.

"Time to go," Daryl announced loudly, giving the girl a wide berth as he headed around her to fire up his bike.

"Where ya goin'?," the girl asked hopefully. Before Merle could answer her, her drunk mother swung the screen door of their trailer open with a loud clap.

"Tracy! Get yer ass in here now!," the woman slurred. Her daughter rolled her eyes but thankfully did as her mother asked and headed back towards her own trailer. The mother made sure her precious daughter was inside before she pointed a finger at Merle. "You stay away from my daughta," she told him. Merle just laughed at the woman, but her words made Daryl angry. He had told that little whore a thousand times to stay out of his yard. The last thing he needed to deal with was having his brother get arrested again. And that little girl wasn't on the verge of being old enough as she liked to pretend. Daryl had seen her lying ass climbing onto the bus that said Senoia Middle School on the side of it.

"Keep yer whore daughter off my fuckin' property!," Daryl spit back at the woman. The way she was acting implied that Merle had gone over there looking for her daughter, which was not the case. Not this time anyway. Daryl sighed. They were just going to have to move. Daryl had been thinking it the last time he had seen that girl coming onto his brother, and now he was even more determined. This fucking trailer park was full of stray cats anyway. Daryl had secret dreams of renting a cabin in the woods. By himself. But that was never going to happen. Not while Merle was around. But they could at least find another trailer to rent. And this time Daryl was going to check out who the neighbors were first.

The drunken woman screamed a few more choice words. This time they were directed at Daryl. He fired up his bike and revved the engine a few times to drown her out. Merle hurled his lit cigarette butt at her, sending the dumb bitch scurrying for cover back inside her house. Then he fired up his own bike and headed out of the crunchy gravel driveway with Daryl behind him.


	5. Chapter 5

Big Yellow Taxi

Chapter 5

 **** Twin oaks is a real sustainable living community in Virginia. I used pictures off their website as inspiration for this story, but I have never been there. All my OC's are made up and any relation to actual residents of that community are just coincidence. Wasn't sure if I needed the disclaimer but I figured it wouldn't hurt. Thanks to anyone that has taken the time to leave me a review. ****

For a community that was based around the concept of living outside the bounds of traditional society, Twin Oaks was much easier to find than Daryl expected. There was even a large painted sign to show them that they were pulling down the right driveway. Pavement turned to gravel and that path led them through a nicely wooded area that was only marked with one more large sign. Painted in rainbow letters, it read If You Were An Oaker You'd Be Home Right Now. Under that there was a more recently painted sign made of poster board that was taped to the larger wooden one. That one was also painted in rainbow colors but it was hung up to welcome people to the festival.

Daryl wasn't sure what he expected to see. A few hippies sitting around in a circle playing the guitar or a lot of women dancing around in long dresses maybe? But when he and his brother pulled their bikes out of the woods and into the more populated area of the community it became clear to him that this festival was actually a full on festival. A grassy field had been set aside for people to park their cars. Daryl noticed a lot of old beat up trucks and several classic VW vans that were painted in bright colors and designs.

The first person Daryl spotted was a man with short red hair and a crown of flowers on his head. He was wearing a colorful tank top and waving around a long baton with ribbons hanging from it. Daryl and Merle slowed to a stop near the man, waiting to see where he wanted them to park their bikes. The man scratched at the scruffy goatee on his chin, regarding the motorcycles with a look of confusion on his face. Finally he pointed down the path to his right.

"Bikes over there," the man informed them. Daryl gave him a nod, relieved that Merle had not made any comments about the man's flambouant attire. He figured Merle really wanted to sleep with the girl he had come here to see, since he was on his best behavior. But Daryl knew from experience that his brother would only keep his mouth shut for so long. They pulled off the gravel road near a giant rack of bicycles. Daryl laughed a little to himself, understanding now that the man in the rainbow shirt had been unable to decide if he should park them with the cars or here near the bikes and mopeds.

Daryl cut off the engine to his bike and swung his leg over. He noticed a group of children hovering over by the bicycle rack, looking at his motorcycle with big excited eyes. Once they had been determined that Daryl wasn't likely to bite them, the oldest of the group approached with her younger friends trailing behind her. They were all wearing crowns make of flowers and leaves, just like the one Daryl had seen on the man that told him where to park. The girl that seemed to be in charge of the group looked like she was around nine or ten. She had long sandy blonde hair and a butterfly painted on one side of her face. Her feet were bare and there was a crystal hanging around her neck on a long thin gold chain. Once she was close enough, the girl reached behind her and took two more flowered crowns from a younger girl that eyeballing Daryl's motorcycle like she had never seen one before.

"Welcome to Twin Oaks," the older girl told Daryl, holding out one of the flowered crowns for him to take. He didn't particularly want a crown, but he also didn't want to be mean to a little girl. So he reached for the ring of white flowers and leaves. The girl smiled big and pretty up at him once he took the crown from her. "Blessed be," she told him with the same funny little bend of the knees that Ayla had given Merle earlier at the market.

Next the girl approached Merle, looking slightly more hesitant but still determined to greet the strange man. Daryl guessed the girl and her friends had been stationed here to greet anyone that happened to show up. She held the other flowered crown out in front of her. It was close enough for Merle to grab but he gestured the girl in closer.

"Come'ere," he told her, "got a secret ta tell ya." Merle leaned down towards the girl, who now looked like she was trying to decide what to do. Her curiosity won out and she crept closer, leaning in close to the rough looking stranger. The girl's little friends crowded in close, hoping to hear what the man was going to tell her. But Merle did not whisper anything to the girl. Instead he let out a string of loud barking noises. Like a dog ready to attack someone. _RAWRARAWRARAWRARAWR!_ The girl screamed and dropped the flower crown on the ground near Merle's feet. Then the whole pack of children went running away, shrieking in terror like they were actually being chased by a pack of wild dogs.

Daryl shook his head at his brother. It was all he could even do. Scolding Merle would only result in a worse scene than the one that had already taken place. Merle was looking pleased with himself, chuckling under his breath as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Once he had a smoke lit, he reached down and plucked the flowered crown up off the ground. Without hesitation, Merle tossed the headpiece away into a large bush before snatching up the crown Daryl had in his hands and getting rid of that one as well.

"Fuckin' fairies," Merle grumbled. No brother of his was going to be seen wearing a flowered crown. Not for all the hippie pussy in the world.

Daryl thought about lighting up a smoke of his own. He was nervous and smoking calmed his nerves. But before he could fish one out of his pocket, he noticed the man that had told them where to park heading towards them like someone light a fire under his ass. The man was coming from the same direction the children had run off in and he did not look like he was impressed with whatever the frightened kids must have told him.

"Is there a problem here?," the man asked once he was close enough that Daryl and Merle could hear him without him having to shout. The man had a much more condescending look on his face than one would guess a man in a flower crown would be capable of making.

"Not unless you have one," Merle shot back at the man. The threat wasn't overt, but it hung in the air over them like a cloud of uncomfortable tension. The man hesitated, looking like he wasn't sure quite how to deal with the situation. He bounced his weight back from one foot to the other, chewing at his bottom lip.

"Who are you here to see?," he finally asked. They didn't normally permit guests on the property without a sponsor. Festivals were the exception to that, but in light of what his neice had just told him, he wasn't about to just let these strange men wander the property unsupervised.

"We came ta see Rowan and Ayla," Daryl said, speaking quickly before his brother could cause further trouble. At the mention of the two women's names, the man in the crown visibly relaxed. He stuck out his hand to Daryl and offered the man a friendly smile.

"Eric," he said, giving Daryl a firmer handshake than he expected from the rather feminine looking man. His smile was so welcoming and genuine that Daryl found himself smiling back.

"Daryl," he said. Then he nodded towards his brother, "that's ma brother Merle." Merle ticked his head but made no move to get any closer to the man or reach for his hand. He had no desire to touch such a man and it seemed the man felt the same about Merle because he was not offered a handshake as Daryl had been.

Eric offered to walk the men to the area where they would be able to find the women they had come to see. While he made the offer politely, Daryl had the feeling that he was also walking with them because he didn't trust them. Daryl was slightly annoyed by this, but he felt it was understandable after the idiotic stunt Merle just pulled. As they headed down a gravel road Daryl could hear music that was getting louder as they walked along. A few more steps and he recognized the low hum that came with lots of people gathered together in the same area.

There were a few large tents set up, with picinic tables underneath. A few small groups of people were gathered together, sitting at the tables eating. His stomach grumbled, reminding Daryl that the only thing he had to eat that day was the pretzel and cup of coffee he had picked up earlier at the famer's market. There was a band, set up on a makeshift stage that put them up a little higher than everyone else. A lot of people were dancing, but some were just sitting and talking on blankets they had spread out on the ground. Children were running around, chasing at each other and darting through the crowd. A young boy that looked to be around four years old ran past them, chasing a chicken that didn't seem interested in being caught by his tiny grabby hands.

Daryl grinned, watching the chicken run in a zig zag patternt that most animals used instinctively to avoid predators. Seemed the techinique worked on toddlers as well, since after making a few grabs at the bird, the boy found himself facedown in the grass as the chicken streaked away from him. The frightened bird ran flapping over towards a couple of women that were sitting on a patchwork quilt they had spread out on the ground. On closer inspection one of the women wasn't really a woman, but a teenage girl. She had a pallet of paints spread out in front of her and she was concentrating on the design she was brushing onto the other woman's face.

The chicken ran at them full speed and Daryl expected it to tear through, knocking paints and brushes everywhere. But instead the chicken went clucking up into the lap of the woman who's face was being painted. The woman let out a little shriek of surprise, but it wasn't until she turned to see where the terrified bird had come from that Daryl saw her face. Her eyes locked on him and she smiled with so much exuberance that Daryl stopped and turned and glanced behind him, sure that her beaming smile must be for someone else besides him. No one was ever that happy to see him.

Rowan turned back and sat still, using every ounce of patience she possessed to keep herself still and let her friend's daughter put the finishing touches on the facial design the girl was painting on her face. She wanted nothing more than to leap up and run at the man from the market. Maybe even jump all over him like an overeager puppy, the way Tank had jumped all over her earlier when she got home from working at the booth with her mother all day.

He wasn't really late. People would still be showing up for the week long festival until late into the night and even during the day tomorrow. But Ayla told the men from the market seven o'clock. So when seven came and went, Rowan had resigned herself to the disapointing fact that the man she met probably wasn't going to show up. She decided not to let it ruin her night, and happily agreed to have her face painted. After that she planned to dance until she forgot all her worries about men and love and the broken promises her mother's tarot cards had made her. Now that the man was here, her entire body was tingling. She felt the electricity from the hair on top of her head all the way down to the tips of her toes. Rowan didn't often read her own aura, but she could feel it. And right now she knew it was alight with sparles of red that flashed around her head and hands like lightning.

Looking at her reflection for the shortest amount of time as she could get away with without hurting the artist's feelings, Rowan regarded the design that had been painted on her face. It was a pattern of tiny dots, painted in rusty orange, dark red and olive green. All the fall colors that flattered her complection. They spread out under her eyes in a loose stripe across her face and over the bridge of her nose. Despite her hurry to rush and greet the man she had met earlier in the day, Rowan took time to let the girl that had painted her face know what a beautiful job she had done. Then she was up, her long skirt swishing around her ankles as she rushed across the grass.

As Rowan opened her mouth to say hello, she looked down and realized she was still holding a large red chicken in her hands. She laughed. Partly at herself for how silly she was being. And partly at the situation. Which was completely laughable.

Daryl liked her laugh. She laughed the same way she had earlier at the market. Rowan's smile went all the way up to her eyes and her laughter was innocent in a way he wasn't used to. It was loud and muscial and unapologetic. It sent a warm feeling snaking down into the pit of his stomach. The chicken in her arms had made the woman laugh, but more than anything he wanted to be the one to make her laugh like that. Unfortunately, he wasn't exactly known for his comedic skills. The only time people laughed around him was when they were laughing at him.

"Goin' ta cook us up some chicken dinner?," Merle asked, ticking his head towards the large red bird Rowan had in her arms.

"Not Henny Penny," Rowan gasped, a look of mock horror on her face, "she's one of our best layers." With that Rowan leaned down and released the large bird back into the grass, giving her a little pat on the hindfeathers in a halfhearted attempt to get her going in the right direction. "Go Henny Penny, run free!," Rowan told the bird. She straightened up and started laughing again, mostly because the recently liberated bird in question was much more interested in circling her ankles and hiding under her long skirt than she was in living her new life as a free range chicken.

Eric leaned down and gathered the bird into his arms, announcing that he was going to take her back to her coop and make sure the chicken run hadn't been left open again. The great chicken debate had been made and voted on. And it had been decided that for their safety, the chickens needed to be kept in a fenced area. But there were some people that found this sort of animal captivity to be cruel. Therefore the door to the chicken's coop was often _accidentally_ left open, allowing the birds to wander as they pleased.

"I'm so glad you came," Rowan gushed out before she could stop herself. She stepped forward, preparing to greet Daryl with a kiss in the cheek. Kissing on the cheek or rubbing cheeks was a common greeting in her community. But it seemed Daryl was not as familiar with the practice as she was. He stiffened up and there was an awkward shuffle of arms and hands that ended in Rowan aiming for his cheek and landing a sloppy kiss on the side of his mouth instead.

The hair on his face felt softer than it looked. And he smelled so good that Rowan lingered close to him with her lips pressed against the side of his mouth for a fraction longer than she knew she should. Her eyes were closed and her hands rested softly on the tops of his shoulders as she sucked in long and deep through her nose, breathing in the fresh soapy smell of him. He smelled liked soap, but there was a lingering woodsy undertone. It reminded her of pine needles and wildflowers.

Rowan's hands rested gently on his shoulders. Her eyes fluttered shut when she leaned in to kiss him, but Daryl kept his eyes open. The sudden intimate contact startled him and he wasn't sure what to do with his hands. They ended up on her waist, his palms against the bare skin of her exposed midriff. Her skin was soft under his rough hands and warm to the touch.

Sexual urges were nothing new for Daryl. He had been having them since he was a teenager. But they were usually something he was able to ignore unless he was overly intoxicated. Having Rowan so close to him was different. The urge to pull this strange woman into his arms and hold her body flush against his was overpowering in a way he had never experienced before. The urge was primal, and so strong he was scared he might not be able to maintain control over himself. Daryl wanted her near him, but in the same breath he was also slightly relieved when Rowan pulled away from the gentle kiss she had planted on the side of his mouth and moved to stand next to him.

By this time, Ayla had joined the small group. She had spent about fifteen minutes watching for the men to show up before she grew bored and ran off to join the dancing. Like the children Daryl had seen earlier, she was wearing a crown on her head, except hers was made of leaves and other greenery with only a few white flowers intertwined. She smiled and moved in to kiss Merle on his cheek.

Since he had already witnessed the awkward embrace between his brother and Rowan, he was prepared for the greeting. Presenting his cheek to the girl, he waited until her mouth was almost touching him before quickly turning his head so that her kiss landed squarely on his mouth instead of his freshly shaved cheek. His hand caught the back of her neck and his mouth pressed down hard on hers, his tounge forcing her lips apart briefly. When the girl started to squirm at the unexpected intimate contact, Merle let her go. She danced back a step, wiping the moisture from her lips with the back of her hand. For a moment Daryl was nervous that the situation might take a turn for the worse. But once she got over her surprise at being kissed in such a familiar way when she wasn't expecting it, the blonde woman started giggling and stepped forward again to grasp ahold of his brother's hand.


	6. Chapter 6

Big Yellow Taxi

Chapter 6

Rowan reached for Daryl's hand and held it. Her slim fingers slid between his thicker ones and she turned towards him, standing close enough that she could wrap her other hand around the back of his palm, sandwiching his hand between the two of hers. The skin on her hands was warm and smooth despite the many decorative tattoos that circled her fingers and covered the backs of her palms.

Tattoos hurt. Daryl had several himself and he knew how much it hurt to get them. The less fat in the area to cushion the sharp vibration of the needle, the more it hurt. The one Daryl had on the inside of his arm had hurt like a summbitch and he had only been able to sit through it by dry swallowing one of the large white pain pills that his brother had pressed into his palm as he hissed at him to stop acting like a little pussy. He could only guess that the hands and fingers would be an even more painful choice than the meaty insides of his arms. He couldn't picture Rowan sitting through something that intense. She appeared so gentle and slight that a strong wind might blow her over.

Aside from the pain factor, full intricate hand and finger designs were an odd choice for a first tattoo. Since he told himself that he was only checking her for tattoos, Daryl let his eyes roam over Rowan's body. Her lower half was covered in her long skirt, but most of her top half was exposed. Her skirt hung low on her hips, exposing the top curve of them were they dipped in to form her slim waist. Under her freckles her shoulders were tan from the sun. His eyes followed her tanlines down to the creamy flesh of her breasts.

By the time Daryl's eyes climbed back up to Rowan's face he had forgotten why he had been staring at her body in the first place. She was blushing pink under the speckled design her young friend had painted on her face, and Daryl realized he had been staring at her. Not just staring, but gawking at her body with his mouth hanging open like a codfish. His first impulse was to mumble some sort of lame apology But before he could form the words her eyes caught his. In the evening sun, he could see they were not brown as he had thought earlier at the market, but more of a dark hazel green with a darker blue green rim around the outside of the irises. As he looked into them, the black center of her eyes expanded until he could see his own reflection. Seconds stretched into minutes and minutes stretched into eternity.

A soft squeeze of his hand brought Daryl out of the trance he felt like he was in. Instead of exciting him further, the touch of Rowan's hands on his was calming. As she touched him, it crossed Daryl's mind that he had never held hands with a woman before. Holding hands was not something he would have expected to enjoy. But he liked it. He liked touching her. The rough feel of the few calouses she had near the tops of her palms in contrast to the rest of her much softer skin was comforting. She was a real girl that actually used her hands, not some pampered princess that couldn't even touch a dishrag for fear of chipping her polish.

A high pitched feminine giggle tore Daryl's attention away from the woman that was clasping his hand between her own. Merle had his hand clamped on the slim waist of Rowan's blonde friend. He was whispering something into her ear. Judging by how red her face was, Daryl didn't even want to guess what his brother was saying to her. He was only glad that Merle had the good sense to whipser whatever he was saying to her instead of hollering it out loud for everyone to hear in his usual obnoxious way.

"Would you like a tour...," Rowan asked. "We usually give tours to all the guests when they arrive," she added, feeling rather lame. She honestly couldn't think of anything else to say. Not anything proper anyway. She had plenty to offer about many other topics. How blue Daryl's eyes were and how strong his hand felt and how good he smelled and how hard her nipples were. She would like to give him a tour. A tour of her bedroom complete with the scenic view of her naked body.

Despite how lame it made her feel, Daryl's face did brighten up slightly at the suggestion of being shown around. Rowan could tell he was curious about her home. Most people were. But his curiosity seemed more genuine as opposed to the voyeuristic vibe Rowan often got from vistors in her community. Those people would poke around, hoping to see something strange they could tell stories about later. They always left disappointed when the most action they saw was people milking goats in the barn. Daryl just seemed like he wanted to know more about her, which made her feel good inside and much more flattered than a hundred insincere compliments.

"I'd like a tour," Daryl assured her. But just as the words were leaving his lips, his stomach let out a loud angry grumble.

"Or maybe something to eat first...," Rowan suggested with a smile. Like when she had caught him staring, Daryl's first impulse was to be embarrassed of his unruly bodily functions. Having his stomach grumble reminded him of grade school. Watching everyone else eat lunch and pretending he wasn't hungry because Dixon's don't take handouts. But like the staring, Rowan didn't seem to mind his stomach's loud protests. On the contrary, she was the one acting embarrassed. Like she was a bad host for not offering him something to eat earlier.

At the suggestion of food, Merle announced loudly that he was ready to eat his own hand off if he didn't get some dinnere. This made both women laugh and settled the matter of where they were going. Rowan led them inside a large building that reminded Daryl a little of someplace children would go to eat when they were away at summer camp. He had never been to summer camp, but he had seen a few movies where kids went away to camp. Most movies ended in the vast majority of them being murdered, but that did not change the fact that they took their meals in a large rustic looking cafeteria much like the one he was currently standing in.

Instead of showing them around like a proper hostess, Rowan dropped Daryl's hand and swished over to poke through the many assorted platters and bowls of food that were set out. Her hips swayed as she walked. Not in a way that seemed deliberately sexual but more like she was moving to music that only she could hear. Daryl took his eyes off her and started looking at the food, nervous that he was going to be offered something strange to eat that he couldn't pronounce the name of. He wasn't a picky eater, but his tastes were simple and he didn't like eating things if he wasn't sure what they were.

To his relief, there was nothing strange laid out on the two messy buffet tables. One was a cold salad bar set up with a few different types of already mixed salads as well as different types of fresh vegetables chopped up in bowls. On the other table there were hot foods in metal steam tables and crock pots. Since Rowan gave him no direction at all as to what sort of dining behavior was expected of him, he watched her to see what she would do.

She grabbed a raw carrot from a plate with her fingers and chomped away on it as she headed over to casually examine the hot food. She lifted the lid off one of the crock pots, letting a delicious aroma out into the air. Leaning down closer, she closed her eyes as she smelled the food. Liking what she smelled, her half eaten carrot was quickly switched to her other hand as she dipped the tip of her little finger into the orange soup inside the crock pot. Placing the same finger between her lips she hummed her enjoyment. Grabbing a spoon, she dipped it into the soup and took a slurpy mouthful. For Daryl eating was something he did becasuse he had to do it to survive. Except on the rare occasion that he took the time to properly grill something that he had hunted or fished for, eating wasn't something he for pleasure. And it definitely wasn't something he was used to seeing women do with so much enjoyment. Watching Rowan eat was cute and sensual at the same time, a combination that was all the more appealing for how strange it was. He felt the corners of his mouth perk up into a ghost of a smile.

"Finally found a woman with worse table manners than yers," Merle quipped, jabbing a hard elbow into Daryl's side with a chuckle. Since Merle's quiet voice was about the volume of a normal person's speaking voice, Rowan heard his joke. Instead of becoming upset at the thought of being made fun of, she just laughed and admitted that she really should get herself a bowl instead of eating directly from the crock pot.

Daryl fought the sudden urge to rabbit punch his brother right in the gut for what felt like the tenth time that day. Instead of starting a fight with Merle, he quickly turned his attention to the food, grabbing a plate and filling up on whatever he thought looked or smelled good to him. Having filled a large white cereal bowl with soup, Rowan hovered around next to him and made suggestions on what she thought he might like. She had discarded her spoon and was sipping her soup directly from the bowl like it was a giant coffee mug.

A man appeared in the doorway that led into the kitchen. Daryl heard him laughing before he saw him. "Damn Roe," the man called over, "you better slow down before you get carotenemia again." This made Rowan laugh into her soup. The man hurried over and slid an arm around Rowan's slim waist. He pulled her close and kissed her on the cheek in a way that suggested they were more than friends. Rowan allowed the contact for a moment before she wriggled away from the man, throwing herself and her soup bowl slightly off balance. A bit of the soup sloshed out over the side of the bowl and dripped onto the toe of Daryl's motorcycle boot. He found himself getting angry. Not because his boots got soup on them, but because he didn't like another man touching the woman he liked in such a familiar way.

"This is Aaron," she said, taking another sip of her soup and smiling indulgently when the man leaned in and sipped from her bowl himself. "He's Eric's partner," she explained. Daryl felt the relief rush into him before he knew it was coming, his lungs releasing the air he didn't know he was holding in. He thought there was something odd about this man, and once Rowan mentioned Eric Daryl realized that this man was dressed in a matching outfit. Complete with a flowered crown and a rainbow tie-dyed tank top. For probably the first time in his life, Daryl felt relieved to know that the man he was being introduced to was homosexual. He might be queer, but at least he wasn't competiton.

"What's carot-enema," Daryl asked, so eager to change the subject from Aaron's sexual preferences before his brother chimed in with his loud opinion that he didn't care if he was pronouncing the unfamiliar word wrong.

"Once I tried being a vegan," Rowan explained, ignoring laughter from both Aaron and her pretty blonde friend, "But it made me so hungry. I ate so many carrots, the tip of my nose turned orange." She paused for her friends laughter to die down before she went on. "Now I eat meat and cheese again." Ayla unplastered herself from Merle's side long enough to laugh and add to the story, telling about how Rowan had nearly scrubbed her skin raw trying to get the yellow stains off before she figured out they were being caused by her diet and not by the large patch of dandelions she had rolled in earlier that day with her dogs.

The story was so funny that Daryl felt a laugh bark out of him before he could help himself. It sounded more like a strangled cough than a real laugh and Rowan turned to look at him, afraid he might have choked on something that he was eating. She knew it then. It wasn't the odd choked sound of his escaping laughter. It was the embarassed look on his face after he made the noise. He didn't laugh much. She didn't think he smiled much either. More than anything she wanted to be the one to make him laugh. And not a short barking laugh like the one that had barely escaped his lips. She wanted to make Daryl laugh the kind of laughter that would make his sides ache and tears streak down his face. Part of it was the healer in her. But another part of it was new. Something this man was bringing out in her. She wanted to make him happy.


	7. Chapter 7

Big Yellow Taxi

Chapter 7

 **** There is some recreational drug use in this chapter. (Just pot smoking.) I doubt its going to bother anyone but just in case I figured I better throw up a warning. ****

Daryl's fear that Merle would get them both thrown out had been put to rest for the time being. It seemed the sterotype about hippies smoking a lot of pot was true. Because once they figured out he had a substantial amount of marijuana on him all of Merle's previous verbal indiscretions were immediately forgiven.

"Do you mind if I roll a few small ones instead of one big one?," Rowan asked, peering up at Merle through her dark eyelashes as she leaned over the section of the large butcher block kitchen island that had been carefully cleared of vegetables craps and then wiped down with a damp cloth for the express purpose of having a clean spot to roll a joint. Merle shrugged like he didn't care, but he watched the young woman with more interest than he usually expended on people. He had smoked pot with girls before. Lots of girls. Two glasses of wine and half a joint made getting their pants off a lot easier. But he had never seen a girl roll a joint before. Women were lazy. And besides that, he doubted most of them even knew how. Like changing a tire or leveling a picture frame, rolling a joint was the sort of task most women simply relied on men to do for them.

Ayla gigged before she added, "Rowan likes her own joint so no one will find out she slobers like a dog." This sent both women into a fit of laughter and they bantered back and forth playfully about who in fact slobbered more and where such slober might end up before the night was over.

"Hurry it up Roe," Aaron called in from the kitchen doorway where he had stationed himself to keep watch. Rowan waved her hand at him dismissively but Daryl noticed that she stopped horsing around with her friend and got back to the task at hand. Since her eyes were focused on the countertop Daryl felt free to observe her without the risk of making too much direct eye contact.

Her body was slim but not without curves to it. The shirt she had on was the type that tied around the neck and the middle of the back, leaving most of her freckled back and shoulders bare. With her long hair falling forward over her shoulders, Daryl could see the line of her spine and the top curve of her hips as she leaned down over the counter. She had two twin dimples on her lower back. Venus dimples. That's what they were called. Named after Venus, the roman goddess of love. A stripper who had hers peirced told him that once. Daryl had gotten stuck talking to her while he was waiting for Merle to get done selling drugs or getting blown or whatever the hell he had been doing for twenty damn minutes in the bathroom of the disgusting place.

On the stripper, with her cheap tacky looking peircings nestled inside them, Daryl had not found the markings to be sexually appealing. But seeing them on the pale freckled skin of Rowan's lower back was an entirely different experience. On her, the name for the dimples seemed fitting. She looked like the goddess of something, in her long flowy skirt with the faded white fringed scarf that swung in time to her graceful movements.

Daryl leaned back against the counter. He glanced at his brother to make sure the man wasn't paying him any attention. Then he reached down and tried to subtly adjust the crotch of his tightening pants. Daryl didn't know what was wrong with him. Getting a random public hard-on was a problem he hadn't had to deal with since puberty. He tried to distract himself by thinking about hunting. About sports that he wasn't even really interested in. About anything other than the mental image of him on his knees in front of Rowan's naked body as he flicked his tounge into the dimples on her back one at a time.

"They make a cream for that ya know," Merle informed him with an evil grin. Daryl yanked his hand away from the front of his pants.

"Shuddup," he hissed at his brother, directing a quick flash of his middle finger at the man. Normally he wouldn't dare to give Merle the finger. But since Daryl was at least 80 percent sure Merle wasn't going to ruin his chances with the pretty girl that had already attached herself to his side by beating the shit out of him in front of her, he figured it was worth the risk.

Rowan finished rolling the last joint. She plucked it up between her thumb and forefinger, thrusting it over towards Merle for his approval before she handed him back the baggie that contained the rest of his pot. Merle turned the joint around in his hand. He squinted and held it up close to his face, giving the item a much more serious inspection than the situation called for. Rowan bit her lip, trying to fight off a smile. While Rowan smoked only occasionally, her mother was what she considered to be a more serious pot smoker. Along with a few different tea blends and tinctures, the woman used the herb medicinally to fight off migraine headaches and severe menstral cramps. Rowan had been watching her mother roll up joints since before she was even old enough to know what they were.

Seeing that Rowan was finished, Aaron left his guard dog postion at the kitchen door and started shooing them all towards a small pantry near the back of the room. The man was in a much bigger rush than the girls seemed to be and his behavior was starting to make Daryl a little nervous. He didn't care much about breaking the rules himself, but Daryl didn't want to do anything to get Rowan in trouble. Even though it was painfully obvious now that this wasn't her first time smoking, he still felt like he was being a bad influence on her.

Daryl reminded himself that Rowan was likely much more worldly than she first appeared, but that did not change the fact that she looked gentle and innocent in the ways of the rough world he was used to. Daryl was already feeling guilty about all the dirty thoughts he had been having about her and he didn't need to add corrupting her with drugs to the list of things he had already done wrong. Taking her for a walk and a glass of lemonade is what he felt like he ought to be doing with a sweet girl like her. Or maybe down to the lake with some popcorn and old stale bread to feed the ducks. Not craming them both into a tiny pantry where he planned to hot box her with pot smoke.

"What's the deal?," Daryl asked Aaron as the man swung open the door to the food pantry and all but shoved everyone inside, "smokin' ain't allowed 'round here or what?"

Ayla laughed again. It seemed high pitched giggling was her response to everything Daryl or his brother said. At least she had a pretty sounding laugh, or she would have crossed the line into being annoying a long time ago. Rowan didn't laugh but she did smile at him, showing the eye tooth on one side of her mouth that stuck out a little. Then she cast her eyes down and bit her lip like she was ashamed of what she was about to say.

"No," she assured him, "it's allowed..." Rowan paused like she didn't want to admit the rest. Luckily Aaron had no problems owning up to his own selfishness.

"We don't want anyone to see us smoking because we don't want to have to share," he cheerfully announced. Rowan looked down, fiddling with a long piece of fringe on the scarf around her waist. Then she flicked her big dark eyes up at Daryl. She was biting at her lower lip again, looking up at him like a child seeking approval from a parent. It took him a moment to register what was going on. She was actually afraid he wasn't going to like her anymore because she wanted to smoke without having to share with everyone she knew. He had been so nervous that Rowan didn't like him, Daryl hadn't stopped to think such a beautiful woman might be feeling the same way about him. Knowing she wasn't as calm and confident as she seemed made him instantly feel ten times more relaxed. Relaxed enough to smile down at her and finally confident enough to rest his hand on her hip and pull her in close enough to plant a chaste kiss on the top of her hair. He lingered close for a moment longer, breathing in the scent of her. She smelled like lavender and coconut oil which only registered in Daryl's mind as something woodsy and good and not like too much cheap perfume.

Aaron elbowed in and pulled the handleless door shut behind them, swinging it hard and then yanking his fingers out to keep them from being smashed. As Aaron fumbled around above them for the chain that would turn the light on, they were completely shrouded in darkness. Daryl heard Ayla squeal as his brother used the opportunity to grope some forbidden part of her body. Whatever he grabbed must have either hurt or tickled her because she squealed louder and jerked away from him. Ayla bumped her body into Rowan's, sending her slamming against Daryl. Before Rowan could right herself and pull away, Daryl wrapped his arms around her and held her protectively close. With both arms around her waist he held her flush against his chest and turned his body so if there was any further horsing around between his brother and Rowan's friend their flailing limbs would hit into his back and not smack into Rowan's face.

Daryl's instinct had been protective and without a lot of forethought. Because if he had thought about it first he would have realized that grabbing Rowan and holding her close would press the round curve of her ass flush against the hard swell of the erection he was trying to pretend wasn't throbbing uncomfortably inside his jeans. He wasn't exactly small either, so he knew there was no way she didn't feel it. Daryl expected her to be repulsed. Even though she had given him ever indication that she was interested. She had invited him here. She had touched him and allowed him to touch her. He still expected rejection and disgust. When she pulled away a fraction he jerked his hands of her body like she was on fire. But Rowan wasn't pulling away, she was only spinning around in his arms to face him. Reaching blindly through the darkness, she caught his hands in hers and placed them back on her, resting them on the curves of her hips.

Lighting up the dark confines of the pantry, Rowan could see the auras of the people around her. Aaron's and Ayla's she regonized easily. Aaron was always violet with a hint of green and white. Ayla's was sunny golden yellow, just like the color of her hair. She was tinged with more red than usual but Rowan still knew it was her. But she hadn't had the chance to concentrate hard enough on Daryl yet to see what his looked like. Rowan was surprised by what she saw. There were little red lightning streaks of passion, a sign of his obvious desire for her. But mostly he was a pale blue grey. The color of someone that had felt alone in the world for so much longer than just a day. In that moment she knew, Daryl was the saddest man that had ever held her in his arms.

Though Rowan didn't specialize in the art of healing like her mother did, people often told her she had the soul of a healer. She had never fully understood what they meant or believed them until she felt the reaction inside her to seeing Daryl's aura. It was like she could feel how alone he was. Her nipples went hard beneath the thin material of her shirt. She didn't just want to be physical with him. It was more like she had to. Her desire to heal the wounds in his soul was a throbbing need that she felt in every part of her body at once.

Rowan's mother was fond of saying that Rowan was her wild girl. This was the woman's kind and sweet way of scolding Rowan for acting on her impulses without thinking about the consequences first. Something she had been doing since she was old enough to walk. Rowan climbed high trees, wrestled dogs, rode unbroken horses at breakneck speeds through the woods, and once she was old enough she started off onto a new adventure. Love. She had a bad habit of falling into bed with men that she found either beautiful or exciting. In her mother's opinion, this was the way to find a lover, not a partner. Rowan hadn't listened at first, but after she left a few young men brokenhearted and crying when she didn't want more from them than friendship after they had a few rolls in the hay, Rowan had started trying her best to heed her mother's advice and think before she acted.

Normally this would be the moment when Rowan would hear her mother's voice in her head, telling her to hold back. Not to do whatever crazy thing she was thinking of doing at the time. But in the small confinces of the dark pantry the only thing Rowan could hear was the whoosh of her own heartbeat in her ears. She grabbed for Daryl's hands and placed them back on her hips, allowing him to choose if he wanted to wrap them around her waist again. He did. She could feel his need, hard beneath the rough material of his jeans and pressed against the smooth cool flesh of her belly.

Her hand snaked down between them. Daryl's pants were fitted, so she couldn't slip her hands inside them. The delightful thought crossed her mind that once they were lovers she was going to have to introduce him to wearing looser fitting clothing so that every part of his body would be accessible to her at all times. This made her giggle. She couldn't put her hand down his pants, so she rubbed him through them. It only took the heat of her touch and a few rhythmic strokes before Rowan heard the sharp intake of his breath and the aura around him exploded with a quick flash of crimson.

"Found it," Aaron called out as he yanked the pull chain with a metallic click and blinded them all with the bright light of the bare bulb that hung inside the small pantry. Rowan spun again, placing her body in front of Daryl's so he would have a moment to adjust or compose himself or whatever men needed to do after they orgasmed inside their pants.

Daryl felt like he had been caught inside of some sort of strange dream. Since he pulled down the long drive that led into Rowan's home everything had an otherworldly quality to it. The trees seemed taller. The grass looked greener. Even food tasted better. To be fair anything tasted better than greasy fast food or grilled up game meats with no seasoning, which were ususally the only meals his budget would allow. But he still couldn't remember having food that tasted as good as the meal he had quickly consumed as they all stood chatting back and forth near the buffet table. As Daryl squinted his eyes at the sudden bright light of the pantry he seriously considered pinching himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming.

She had touched him. Girls had touched him before. But it never felt like that. He thought Rowan was recoiling from him after feeling his erection pressing into her. The next thing he knew her hand was on him and he was ejaculating in his pants like some kind of inexperienced teenager. The weird part about it, besides how fast it had happened, was that he got the distinct feeling she had rubbed him off on purpose. They hadn't even kissed yet. So it seemed like a crazy thing for a girl to do. Especially a good girl, which is how he had already catagorized Rowan in his mind. Beautiful and generous and far too good for the likes of him. Daryl knew that right from the moment he met her.

Rowan flicked her eyes up at him, the blush rising in her cheeks before she quickly looked back down at her feet again. Despite feeling a sudden rush of bravery seconds before, now she was feeling shy again, scared of what this man might think of a girl that was bold enough to place her hands on a stranger so intimately. Daryl smiled back at her, thinking about her eyes. He thought they were brown at first, but in the brighter light he could see they were actually more of a deep golden green. Rowan gave him one more quick glance before she took the joint that Aaron was passing to her and sucked in a long deep breath. Closing her eyes, she hummed and leaned back against Daryl's chest, melting into him like she was sinking into a bubble bath.

Daryl hestitated, his insecuritites and the questions he had about her motives bubbling to the surface of his mind. But when Rowan blinked her eyes open and smiled up at him, he felt the tornado of emotions inside him simmer down into a dull roar. Her wrapped one strong arm around her waist, the rough plane of his palm resting against the bare skin of her midrift. The same part of her that his erection had been pressing against only moments before. Feeling braver now after their brief intimate contact, Daryl didn't grip her stiffly in his arms like he had when he was only trying to put his body between her and their wrestling companions. This time he relaxed into her and let himself actually feel her skin with his hand. His fingers remained still but his thumb stroked gently back and forth across the soft skin just under her belly button. He normally wouldn't engage in such a public display of affection. But since his brother was now openly groping the woman in his arms, touching Rowan's stomach felt mild by comparison.

Daryl looked down at her as she smiled up at him. Her cheeks were flushed with color under her freckles and the bright design she had painted on her face, but her smile was warm and inviting. Rowan didn't think she was too good for him. And if that's how she felt he wasn't going to tell her she was wrong.


	8. Chapter 8

Big Yellow Taxi

Chapter 8

The pot they were smoking was stronger than the stuff Rowan's mother grew out behind her tomatoes. A lot stronger. The higher Ayla got the more she giggled. And the more she giggled the harder Rowan laughed. She laughed until she couldn't even remember what she was laughing about anymore. The small pantry was filling with a murky layer of smoke that was slowly descending on them from the ceiling above. Rowan had long since given up all hope of appearing cool or keeping her composure. Since watching Merle and Aaron try to heave Ayla up off the floor was only making her laugh harder, Rowan turned and buried her tear stained face into Daryl's chest.

"I'm sorry," Rowan said, tilting her head back and looking up Daryl as she choked off another round of laughter, "I'm not always so silly, I swear." He opened his mouth to tell her he didn't mind. She didn't have to apologize for laughing and having fun. And besides, watching Merle try to wrangle her friend was making for some quality entertainment. Before he could get the words out the door to the pantry was swung open. So much smoke puffed out that the person in the doorway was momentarily engulfed in a large cloud.

"Rowan?," Eric asked, fanning the air in front of it to try and keep from getting a contact high, "are you in there?" He had been looking for her. Luckily she had not been hard to locate. There was so much loud laughter coming from inside the jam and jelly storage pantry that he had guessed where she and Ayla were before he even got halfway through the kitchen.

"I'm here," Rowan announced. She glided through the smoke, heading out of the pantry and throwing her arms around Eric. Ignoring his scolding tone, she hugged him tight before she pulled back and kissed him on each one of his suddenly flushed cheeks. "Is my dad here yet?," she asked. Daryl heard her question and felt his stomach do a flip flop. He had never met a girl's parents before and he certainly wasn't prepared to meet Rowan's in his present state.

"No," Eric told her, smiling at how deeply disappointed she looked. Rowan was a doll. She loved everyone. But Eric knew her father held a special place in her heart, especially since she only got to see him once or twice a year. She usually left and spent the summer with him on the indian reservation where he lived, but she had stayed back this year since one of her dogs had whelped a summer litter of puppies that she needed to find homes for. "But you have a visitor," Eric announced, hoping that would cheer her up.

"I know," Rowan said, letting go of Eric and taking Daryl's hand again once he emerged from the small pantry. She smiled at him again, this time like she was proud to have him next to her. Having a girl look at him like that felt the same way it had felt when she rubbed her hand over him in the darkness of the pantry before the light clicked on. Unfamiliar but damn good. "This is my visitor," Rowan announced. Eric laughed. He didn't blame her for being so excited. If he was single and a guy that rough and handsome came to visit him, he would be grinning from ear to ear too.

"Another visitor," Eric corrected.

Rowan smiled and clapped her hands together. Seeing her obvious excitement that she had yet another visitor, Daryl's stomach bottomed out like someone had sucker punched him right in the gut. The idea of meeting her father had him worried, but now he was even more concerned about who her visitor might be. Daryl tried his best not to jump to conclusions, but he had a feeling right from the start that this whole situation had been too good to be true. Now he felt like his instincts had been right. He inwardly berated himself for believing that this girl felt some sort of special way about him. For all he knew he might have been just one of the many men she invited to come and visit her tonight. Rowan didn't seem like the type of person that would be intentionally cruel, but then again he didn't really know her yet.

"Aren't you coming?" Rowan called in from the doorway. Daryl shook his head and tried to clear the negative thoughts away. The last thing he wanted to do was walk Rowan out to meet whatever other man she had invited but he didn't see any way he could get out of it without making a scene. She was lingering in the doorway with one arm outstretched, waiting for him to take her hand in his. Before he had even decided what he wanted to do, Daryl felt his larger hand clasping around her slimmer one. His body had propelled itself across the kitchen towards her like it had a mind of it's own.

Merle and Ayla stayed behind in the kitchen, sharing a glass of ice water between them. But Aaron caught up to the small group as they walked back towards the festival area. Daryl kept quiet, listening to the three of them chat. They were talking about the festival that would be going on for the rest of the week, mentioning the activites they planned to take part in or the ones they had helped to organize. Aaron kept trying to get Rowan to agree to read for him. Daryl wasn't sure what he meant, but from the context he was pretty sure the man wasn't talking about reading aloud from a book. Rowan kept giggling and telling him her mother was better at it than she was.

Daryl took Rowan's hand as they were leaving the kitchen and she had not let go of it since. She kept smiling up at him, reaching across her body to touch the arm of the hand she was holding lightly with her free hand. The light brush of her hand across his arm made his skin prickle up into gooseflesh, the light blonde hairs on his arm standing on end. Like he was cold when he was anything but. Their bodies were so close together that the long fringe on her skirt was brushing against the leg of his jeans each time she took a step. Her smile was so warm and inviting. Daryl was having a hard time not smiling back. He had to remind himself that he was walking her out to meet some other man. Someone she probably liked better than him. The thought never crossed Daryl's mind that if Rowan was trying to ditch him for someone else, the last thing she would want to do was walk up holding his hand.

"There they are," Eric announced. He pointed towards a small group of people that were standing near the outskirts of the festival area looking slightly out of place. Daryl felt the knot in his stomach instantly release. He was so high he almost laughed out loud at himself. There was no other man. The people that Rowan was walking out to meet were a married couple. There was a boy with them that looked to be around ten or eleven years old. The mother looked like she was having a hard time keeping him close to her. He was yanking at her shirt and pointing at a group of children that were kicking a ball around, wanting to run off and play.

Despite his relief at seeing a couple and not a single man, there was something about the man that was making the hair on Daryl's arm stand up. And not in a good way like Rowan's touch had done. The stance of the man's body and the way his eyes were constantly scanning the area around him. He was a cop. Daryl would bet money on it. And Rowan still had a joint tucked behind her ear. The extra one she rolled up that they had all been too high already to smoke.

Before he could stop her, Rowan let go of Daryl's hand and stepped forward to offer the people a warm welcome. She had a light hug and a kiss on the cheek for each of them. This included the boy, who appeared to enjoy Rowan's affectionate greeting much more than his parents did. The man seemed the most uncomfortable, and he glanced at his wife nervously to see what her reaction would be to a strange women kissing him and wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

"I'm here about the dog," the man announced. When Rowan didn't respond immediately, he added, "I emailed you." Daryl chewed at the skin on his thumb. He noticed while the man was obviously trying not to stare at Rowan, his eyes kept darting to the side of her head and then back down again. Daryl was convinced now that he had been right about the guy being a cop.

"Oh!," Rowan excalimed. She giggled, thinking that she was a lot higher than she realized. Staring at this man like she had gone half retarded was probably not the best way to sell him a puppy. "You're Rick, right?"

The man nodded, obviously relieved that he was in the right place and talking to the right person. "Yes. Rick Grimes." He gestured to his wife and son and made a quick introduction. "My wife Lori and my son Carl." Daryl saw the man's eyes flick again towards the joint Rowan had behind her ear. Daryl knew he ought to stay out of it. That's what his brother would tell him to do. But instead he found himself stepping forward and wrapping an arm around Rowan's waist. Daryl grabbed for the joint, planning to either hide it in his own pocket or dispose of it discreetly. What actually happened was he got his hand tangled up in Rowan's hair and yanked a chunk of it, making her yelp. The paper holding the joint together ripped and a sprinkle of pot rained down over both of them.

"What are you doing?," Rowan asked, rubbing the spot on her head where her hair had been pulled. Daryl expected her voice to be filled with anger after having her hair yanked suddenly and for no reason, but instead she just sounded concerned.

"He's a cop," Daryl hissed into her ear. Rowan's smile disappeared. She turned her wide eyes on the man she had been welcoming with a hug and a kiss a few moments before. With a few strands of her long hair dangling from between his fingers, Daryl used both hands to try and brush her off as quickly as possible. He fully expected the cop to arrest him at any moment, but he was hoping he could at least keep Rowan from getting in trouble.

"Don't worry, I'm off duty," Rick told them. He was doing his best to keep a straight face but Daryl could see the man looked ready to laugh at them. This was unusual for a cop. At least in his experience. Daryl had never had one smile at him before. Unless you count the old hag that worked behind the desk at the county jail. The one that wrote up the paperwork when he had to go down and bail Merle out. She had been all smiles and nasty yellow nicotine teeth.

"My dad's off duty, but he still has a gun in the car," the man's son announced loudly. "Want to see it?," he asked. Rick laughed, but his wife didn't look impressed with the boy's offer.

"Carl!," his mother scolded. "Guns are not toys, we've had this discussion."

TWD

Daryl rested one foot on the bottom rung of the split rail fence. He noticed Rick the cop was doing the same. Rowan had taken his son and wife inside the large pasture to let them get a better look at her puppies. She had taken the boy by the hand and he stared up at her with a happy smile until the little boy in him took over and puppies became so much more exciting than a pretty girl could ever be.

Along with the dogs, there was a small herd of goats and one medium sized black horse grazing in the area. Daryl tried to whistle the horse over, but it only cocked it's head in his direction before it went back to chewing on the long grasses near the fenceline. Daryl didn't openly stare. But he quietly observed the man next to him out of the corner of his eye. He had never spent so much time around a cop unless they were arresting him or his brother. The man must have been doing the same to him, because after a few minutes of only slightly uncomfortable silence, Rick spoke up.

"You're not from here, are ya?," he asked. Daryl shook his head, but he didn't offer up any further information about himself. He hesitated a moment, unsure if he should bring up what happened earlier with the pot or pretend it never happened. Pretending it didn't happen felt like it was making the silence between them more awkward than it needed to be so Daryl spoke up.

"Thanks for bein' cool before," he finally said. Daryl was happy not to be arrested and he didn't have a problem admitting it. Not even to a cop.

"No problem," Rick answered back. He laughed as a large puppy knocked his son down and proceded to lick the boy all over until Rowan hauled it away and scolded it. "I haven't been out here much, but the sheriff that trained me told me about this place." Rick paused like he was reliving a plesant memory. Daryl guessed maybe the man he was speaking of had been more like a mentor than a boss to him.

"He said these were peaceful people and that we ought to leave them alone and let them live their lives." Rick lifted his arm and pointed to a large hill that was nestled far enough away that it looked tiny out behind the large red barn. "Kids used to like ta come out here and go sleddin' down that hill in the winter if it got cold enough to snow..."

Daryl nodded, listening to the story with so much interest that he suprised himself. He hadn't know how curious he was to hear anything anyone was willing to tell him about Rowan's people. More than anything he was eager to understand her and know more about how she lived. He had already seen enough to know the people here had made a concious choice not to live by the standards of normal society. But he felt he didn't know enough yet to really make a judgement on what he thought about it.

Rick's old boss had been just a teenage kid at the time the story took place. The oaks community had only been settled a few years before and there weren't as many animals or buildings here then. Despite the lack of outbuildings, everyone in the surrounding towns knew this was some kind of hippie commune. All the kids' parents warned them to stay away from this place. They said the people that lived here were nothing but a bunch of drug users and sex fiends. But that hill was the best in the county for sledding. And the fact that it was forbidden made it all the more appealing.

The older kids were taking turns sliding down the hill on an old intertube. When Rick's former boss's little sister got on, all the big kids gave her a push start and send her flying down the hill. It was just good fun at first. But she was so light, the girl went too far and slid out onto the iced surface of the lake. The ice wasn't thick enough and it broke, sending her sinking down into the freezing water. He and his friends were in shock, panicking about how to help the girl. She would have died if a few of the people that lived here hadn't been passing by at the time. They risked their lives to fish her out of the water. A little girl with red hair had stripped all the way down to her underpants and given his sister her dry clothes to put on. The hippies, as Rick's former boss called them, took his sister back to the one large community house they were all living in at the time and warmed her up with a big fire, a hot bowl of broth and a glass of warm cider.

"Every year for christmas his sister still brings them out a big tin of cookies and fudge," Rick added with a smile. Daryl smiled back, nodding his appreciation for the man's story. He had mostly been looking at Rowan, but he remembered seeing a slightly older red haired woman working at the farmers market with her. He wondered if she was the little girl from Rick's story.

They might have talked a while longer, but Rick turned his attention to his wife and son. He hollered back and forth with them as they tried to decide between two large black puppies that looked almost identical to Daryl. A large tan colored goat ambled over and nibbled on a long piece of grass Daryl held out for it. He only got one quick pet on it's tawny head before the poor animal was being wrestled to the ground by a large light brown puppy that clearly had no idea of it's own strength. The goat cried out, making a terrible bleeting noise. Rowan yelled and clapped her hands at the dog, but she was too far away to grab the puppy fast enough. So Daryl hopped the fenced and seized the naughty puppy by the collar, hauling her off the other animal.

The goat made one more loud protesting neigh as it scrambled to it's feet and ran away. Daryl kept ahold of the puppy to keep it from chasing the other animal. Out of all the puppies in the enclosure, the one Daryl had ahold of was the only one that was wearing a collar. As he looked down at the dog, he realized she looked very familar.

"Hi Lily," Daryl said. At the sound of her name, which she knew well since the silly humans around her always seemed to be yelling it for one reason or another, Lily grew very excited. She shook her shoulders, breaking free from the grasp the man had on her. Then she reared up and started jumping all over him. Daryl looked up to see Rowan running in his direction. She was holding her long skirt up with her hands, her face red from both embarrassment and from running around the field with Rick's son and all her dogs. The biggest dog Daryl had ever seen was trotting along next to her. When she stopped and gestured with her hand, the dog charged ahead in his direction.

Daryl had always loved animals. Even deer and rabbit. He hunted them because he had to eat, but when he wasn't hunting he enjoyed watching them. He had met a few horses that he wasn't interested in riding. But he had never been scared of an animal before. That giant black dog made him suck in his breath and take a step back towards the split rail fence. A fence that now seemed far to flimsy to contain such a beast inside. But the dog wasn't after Daryl. Rowan had sent him to police the large rowdy puppy that was jumping all over him. With a few snaps and some impressive sounding growls, the large black dog had the puppy belly down in the grass before Rowan could even catch her breath.

Once Lily had been fully subdued, the large dog turned towards Daryl. After all the growling he just heard, Daryl was on full alert, watching the dog to make sure it wasn't about to take a chunk out of him. The dog stared back at him, moving forward to sniff at his crotch. Whatever the giant beast smelled must have pleased him, because he sat down on his haunches and cocked his head to the side.

Rowan arrived a few moments later, breathless with her cheeks flushed a lovely pink beneath her freckles. She stroked her hand over the big dog's head, smiling down at him. Daryl recgonized the same proud look on her face. The one she had turned on him when she called him her visitor. He had been around women that tolerated animals, but Daryl had never met one that seemed to genuinely care for them before. It was obvious to him from the subtle body language of both the woman and the animal that the bond they shared was much closer than owner and pet. He had always wanted a dog, but never had the time or the room or a stable enough place to live. Daryl almost felt slightly jealous, though he wasn't sure if he was jealous of Rowan for having such a giant bad ass dog, or the dog for having earned the affections and love of the woman Daryl desperately wanted to get to know better.

"This is Tank," Rowan announced, leaving her hand resting on her dog's head as she smiled up at Daryl. Rowan watched her dog closely, waiting to see what his reaction to Daryl would be. Tank was the best judge of character she had ever met. He could tell from a smell whether or not someone could be trusted. And he was never wrong. Rowan felt herself start to fill up with nervous energy as she waited. Daryl reached forward slowly, offering his hand up for Tank to smell. Tank took his time, getting a good sniff on the man before.

Rowan waited for her dog to either sit down and yip, meaning he liked the man, or to growl, which meant the man was bad news. But he did neither of those things. Instead Tank licked Daryl's hand and moved forward to rub his large body against the man's legs. This was a gesture of the highest affection. One the dog usually reserved only for family members and close friends. Rowan's mouth fell open as she watched Daryl lean down and give her large dog a friendly scratch.

"He never does that with peope he doesn't know...," Rowan said, her open mouth stare finally turning into a smile.


	9. Chapter 9

Big Yellow Taxi

Chapter 9

"Is that a Honda?," Rick asked as he slowed to a stop and started to look over the motorcycle that was parked closest to the long metal rack of bicycles despite his wife's obvious annoyance. She was holding onto the newest member of their family by the makeshift leash Rowan had given her. The puppy was bigger than most fully grown dogs and seemed to be much more interested in staying with his former mistress than he was in going home with his new owners. After a few high pitched whines and one half hearted howl, the puppy darted back towards Rowan, yanking his rope leash taunt and dragging Lori back a few steps before she managed to get her footing and stop the young dog from running free.

"Some of it," Daryl answered. He had very few things in his life that he was actually proud of and his bike happened to be one of them. When Rick had stopped to look at his bike without any urging it made Daryl more excited that it normally would to have someone look at his bike. Showing the bike to Rick meant he could also show it to Rowan and Daryl was curious to see her reaction to the machine.

"Built it myself from the frame out," Daryl added, leaving out the part about how most if not all the parts were either salvaged or stolen. The men conversed back and forth a little about the bike while Rowan and her large black dog hovered nearby. Rowan knew as much about motorcycles as she did about cars. Nothing. She didn't even know how to drive. The only thing with a motor she had ever tried to drive was a moped. And that had been a complete and total disaster. As soon as she got going on it her skirt had flown back into her face and she had panic clutched the gas, sending herself flying straight into a lightpost. But as Daryl talked with Rick about his bike she leaned close, looking over Daryl's bike and nodding along like she knew what he and Rick were talking about when in fact it sounded to her like they were talking in another language.

"Ever considered selling it?," Rick asked. Daryl shook his head enthusiastically, earning him a chuckle from the other man. He tried to keep his attention on Rick, who he was talking to, but he was distracted by Rowan's behavior. Daryl had been watching her out of the corner of his eye. She had walked a small circle around his bike, looking at it from all angles before she took a few graceful steps forward. Tank had been shadowing her movements but when she stepped closer to the bike the large dog sat down and stayed back like he wasn't sure he wanted to get too close to the odd looking vehicle. Rowan's arm stretched away from her body, one slender hand reaching out until it grazed over the seat of his bike. While Merle was fond of taking girls for rides on his bike, Daryl was not. Watching Rowan stroke her agile fingers over the leather seat felt more intimate than his contact with her in the pantry had been. Watching her, he wondered what it might feel like to have her riding behind him, her arms wrapped around him and her breasts pressed in tight against his back.

"Nope," Daryl answered. He had never thought about selling his bike, though Rick wasn't the first person to ask him about it. One man even offered him a job working in the garage section of the large motorcycle dealership he owned. But Daryl turned him down, knowing a good steady job like that would require a background check. One he couldn't pass.

"Rick!," Rick's wife hollered, not bothering to hide her impatience any longer, "wrap it up I can't hold this dog back." The puppy had managed to wrap it's rope leash around Lori's legs and she was dangerously close to falling forward onto her face into a large pile of freshly laid dog turd. Rick and Daryl's conversation ended abruptly as the man rushed over to rescue his wife, leaving Daryl and Rowan alone near his bike.

After she felt the well worn leather of the seat, Rowan trailed the tip of one finger up the frame to grip down on one of the handle bars. Daryl hesitated, fighting the urge to move forward and wrap one arm around her waist. The normal insecuritites he had reared up inside him. No woman wanted a dirty redneck like him laying hands on her. He wasn't good enough. Wasn't smart enough. Didn't have a job and didn't even have the money to pay the power bill to get the lights on in his dumpy ass trailer.

Daryl took one long deep breath in and blew it out slowly through his pursed lips. He forced all those feelings down inside him, emboldened by the way Rowan had been smiling at him just a short time before. One foot after the other he closed the small distance between them and placed one hand over the hand of hers that was wrapped loosely around the handle bar of his bike. His other arm circled her waist, the rough pads of his fingers coming to rest on the waistband of her long skirt. She didn't lean away from him as he had feared, but smiled and tucked herself into his side.

"Ever ridden on a bike before?," he asked her, feeling like he was using the worst pickup line out of the full book of worst pickup lines. But Rowan just shook her head, her big eyes getting wider as she looked up at him.

"Seems like it would be scary," she added, sucking in the full middle of her lower lip and nibbling it before letting it slide out from between her teeth with a almost inaudible pop. Her hand rose up, coming to rest on the center of Daryl's lower back. There was a nasty raised scar directly under her hand and Daryl was glad he had his vest on. She wouldn't be able to feel the scar through the leather. "You must be very brave," Rowan told him. Daryl's first impluse was to assume that she was teasing him, but he could see nothing but complete sincerity in her big dark eyes.

"Could take you fer a ride sometime," Daryl said, his statement coming out sounding more like a question. Rowan glanced down at the bike before she looked back up at him, her eyebrows now knitted together with concern.

"But what if I fall off?," she asked. Daryl smiled at the simple innocence of her question. He would never let her fall off his bike.

"That's why ya gotta hold on," he told her. Rowan heard the timber of Daryl's voice change as the aura around him flushed with red. Suddenly she got the feeling that maybe just maybe they were talking about a different sort of ride. One she was much more eager to take than a ride on his bike. Daryl's eyes were as blue as the clear sky behind his head and she almost felt herself getting lost in them, forgetting everything that was going on around her. His hand was resting on her hip and the callous on the side of his thumb was stroking a tiny circle of fire on the exposed skin above the waistband of her skirt. She blinked her eyes and got a tiny flash. Her visions were never precise as her mother's sometimes were. Rowan had only inherited a glimmer of her mother's gift. All she saw this time was a delicious image of her hands against Daryl's bare chest, the tips of her fingers bending to scrape her nails gently over his skin.

"Hold on to what?," she asked, her hand moving up his back as her body tucked in closer to his. Rowan was on the tall side of average for a girl and she liked that when she was this close to Daryl she had to tilt her head back a little in order to look into his eyes. It made her feel delicate, something she knew very well she wasn't.

"Hold on to me," Daryl said, his voice low and quiet. Rowan slipped the hand that was resting on the handlebar out from under his and shifted her body so she could wrap both her arms around his waist. She hugged him close and rested her head against his chest.

"Like this?," she asked. Daryl's tounge suddenly felt like it was glued to the roof of his mouth. It was all he could do to let out a grunt of the affirmative variety. Rowan hugged him closer and hummed her enjoyment at finally being able to wrap her arms around the man. His chest was as broad and strong as it looked. And his body felt different from the men she had known before. Daryl was thicker and his muscles felt different from the ones the men in her community got from dancing and yoga and braiding rope hammocks. Rowan knew she had really only waited a few hours but it felt like she had been waiting a thousand years to get him in her arms. And now that she had a hold of him she didn't ever want to let go.

"Better come out to my car so I can pay you for the dog," Rick hollered over once he had suceeded in saving his wife from certain disaster. He actually felt a little bad for interrupting the little love scene that was playing out over near the bikes. But if he didn't get this dog home and into the bathtub to wash the goat smell off Lori was going to have his balls for breakfast. Carl also looked like he was getting bored and Carl had a tendency to wander off when he was bored. If he wandered off around here nothing bad would happen but it would take them hours to find him.

TWD

Daryl finally let go of Rowan as she leaned into the car, giving her puppy one last hug and kiss goodbye. She would miss all her babies, but she was glad her puppy was going to a good home. The cruiser had King County Sheriff's Department printed on the side and the boy was begging his dad to turn on the sirens and the lights. His mother reminded him that the noise might scare his new dog. This quieted the boy down in a hurry and he climbed into the backseat to wrap his arms around the giant slobbery pup.

Rick handed Rowan an envelope that Daryl assumed contained a large stack of money. He wondered how much she got for each dog but felt uncomfortable asking. Luckily Rick broached the subject.

"We agreed on $1800, right?," he asked. It was more than he would normally have been willing to pay for a dog but her knew the money was for a charitable cause. He and Rowan had spoken about that in the emails they exchanged. Rowan nodded and smiled a huge grin at Rick that showed off the one crooked tooth she had that stuck out a little further than the rest on one side.

"Right," she announced, "Once I sell the rest of my puppies we will be halfway to building our wildlife bridge." Rick smiled and stuck his hand out for Rowan to shake. She grabbed it, but instead of shaking it properly she gripped it lightly and gave the same funny like courtsey she and Ayla had given Daryl and Merle back at the farmer's market. "Blessed be to you and your beautiful family," she said. Rick shuffled his feet awkwardly and Daryl was happy to see he wasn't the only one that had been unsure of what the proper response to Rowan's unique statement was.

"To you as well," Rick finally said, "and good luck with the bridge. We've had far too many wildlife related crashes out there. When you ladies get that bridge built you'll be saving more lives than just the animals."

Daryl wasn't sure what bridge Rick was talking about, but his words seemed to have an emotional affect on Rowan. She leaned in and offered the man a chaste kiss on the cheek before she stepped back and waved goodbye to the boy and the puppy in the backseat.

After the cruiser pulled out and disappeared around the bend in the gravel road, Daryl and Rowan headed back towards the festival area. Daryl asked her about the bridge and she explained what she and Rick had been talking about. Her community owned a lot of land. Most of it was undeveloped. They did have a few cabins out near one of the lakes, but most of the land they intentionally left as nature intended. That was until the state came in and built an interstate highway right smack through the middle of it. They had gone to council meetings. Fought the construction every step of the way with paperwork and protests. But eventually they had lost and the highway had been built. Rowan got very emotional just talking about it. And seeing her upset made Daryl feel angry in new way he hadn't felt before. Anger at whoever had made such a gentle woman feel so bad. He didn't often feel anger at social inustices, seeing them as just another normal part of life.

All the animals natural migration patterns had been disrupted. They were dying by the dozen out in the highway traffic. So Rowan's mother came up with the idea to build a wildlife crossing across the top of the highway. They found a construction company that was willing to build the bridge for them at a reduced cost. But no one was going to build something that extensive for free. So Rowan's community and several of the neighboring communites were currently raising money to pay for the bridge.

"I think I know the place you mean," Daryl said, "Up a little ways north of here, closer to the mountains?" Rowan nodded. "I usedta go hunting up there a lot," Daryl announced. The words were out of his mouth before he realized he had just admitted to not only hunting and killing the cute little animals that Rowan was ready to cry her eyes out over, but he had also announced that he had been poaching on her land. His eyes got wide and he started to stammer, trying to think up some way to take the statement back. Rowan stopped and rested her hand on his arm, her touch radiating calm vibes through his body.

"It's okay," she assured him, "My dad hunts. And while we may own the land, no one owns the mother's creatures. They are here for the benefit of all." Seeing that her words had visibly relaxed the man at her side, Rowan smiled at him. "My dad built a hunting cabin up that way. You can use it next time you go up there if you want to," Rowan offered with another beaming smile.

Daryl wasn't sure what to say. He already felt like Rowan was a little too good to be true. That was before he saw her interact with her dogs. And now she had some sort of family hunting cabin that she was offering up for him to use anytime he felt like it. It didn't feel real and Daryl brought his hand up to scrub at his face, expecting any moment to wake up from the dream he was having. He felt a bit like a hungry child that had finally gotten a piece of candy in his hands and was afraid that at any moment someone else might swoop in and take it away.

"This is my place," Rowan told him as she gestured to the large building behind her, "I just need to put this money away and then we can go back to the festival."

Daryl followed her down a brick lined path. There were attractive beds full of flowers on either side that Rowan pointed out to him. One was a medicinal herb garden. Another was full of plants that they made tea out of. That one was Rowan's to take care of. She explained that was why it had more weeds in it than the other gardens. Rowan swung the unlocked door of the building open wide so her large dog had room to charge inside. Daryl expected he would wait outside but Rowan paused in the doorway, making it obvious that she intended for him to follow her inside.

Once Daryl got inside it became obvious to him that a lot of other people lived inside the building besides Rowan and her mother. They walked through a communal lounging area. There were old comfy looking couches, one bookcase full of books and another full of board games, a large table with a puzzle laid out on it that looked about halfway finished and another area that was covered in an old rag rug with bean bag chairs scattered around on it. Another section appeared to be set up for children. There was an old plastic playhouse and a bin full of dolls and toys.

After passing through the lounge, Rowan led Daryl down a wide hallway. She pointed out which room belonged to her friend Ayla and which one was her mother's. And then she stopped in the doorway of her own room. Tank was already making himself at home on her unmade bed. The room was painted in a light minty green on two of the walls that Daryl could see and the third was covered in a mural of painted flowers. But what was surprising was that there were a lot of native american decorative touches. A woven indian blanket covered part of the large queen sized bed. A dreamcatcher hung from the wooden headboard. A white buckskin fringed dress was hanging, displayed like it was more for looking at than wearing.

Daryl could tell just from looking at the stuff that it was authentic and not the white trash gift shop style crap that the people he knew hung up in their trailers. As he looked at it, still hovering in the doorway because he didn't feel right just charging into Rowan's bedroom, one tiny piece of the puzzle that was Rowan fell into place. She had to be at least half native american. That would explain her wide high set cheekbones and her long silky black hair. And not only that. Daryl now knew that the tiny touch of an accent she had was likely because she also spoke some variation of a native language.

"You can come in," Rowan told him. She crossed the room and shoved the envelope of cash into a sewing basket that was sitting on top of an antique wooden dresser. Daryl took one small step inside the room, still hovering close to the doorway. "Sorry about the mess," Rowan added in an offhand way like she really wasn't sorry at all for making a mess in her own room. "When I turned 25 my mom started refusing to clean my room for me," Rowan added with a giggle. Her mom still cleaned her room and changed her sheets once in a while but she liked to pretend she didn't.

Daryl snorted out a laugh, secretly grateful that he now had some idea how old Rowan was. He had been guessing she was a lot younger than 25 and was happy to know she was closer to him in age than he had guessed. Not to get it confused. She was still way too young for him, but at least she wasn't jail bait young.

"How much money do you have left to raise for your bridge?," Daryl asked, trying to make some sort of conversation as he leaned forward over Rowan's bed to get a closer look at her dreamcatcher. It was intricately woven with little stones strung onto the net. They were tiger's eyes, the same as the one that Rowan had on a chain around her neck. Dangling down from it were long strings of buckskin that had beads and turkey feathers attached to the bottoms of them. Daryl lifted one feather, enjoying the silky texture of the feather before he let it slip from his fingers.

"Another 50 thousand," Rowan announced. Daryl about choked on his own spit.

"You raised 50 thousand dollars already?," he asked, not sure if he would believe her even if she said yes. Rowan giggled and shook her head, letting the lid of her sewing box snap closed.

"I raised around ten," she corrected, "or it will be ten once I sell my last puppy." Daryl glanced nervously at the sewing box on her dresser, the image of Merle robbing that woman he slept with earlier that morning was fresh in Daryl's mind. Rowan had almost ten grand in a little purple and white flowered box on her dresser. The door to her room had been hanging open too, and the building was unlocked. They were having a big party. Rowan was so innocent in the ways of the world. It made Daryl feel protective of both the woman and her stash of carefully saved charity money.

"You should start lockin' yer door," Daryl told her. Rowan smiled. It was sweet of Daryl to worry about her. But she knew no one would take her money. People sometimes borrowed things without asking, but she had never had anything deliberately stolen from her before. Plus no one in her community had any need for a large sum of money. Everyone she knew considered money to be a necessary evil. There were some things they weren't able to grow themselves, like rice and bananas. So they needed money to buy those things. But money made people greedy for more food than they could eat and more clothes than they could wear and giant rooms in giant houses that sat empty because they didn't have enough friends and family to fill them. No one she knew wanted that much of it.

Rowan moved closer and turned her attention to her dreamcatcher, eager to change the subject. "My father shot that turkey last summer for the feast that comes at the end of sundance festival," Rowan explained, "He gave me the tail feathers to bring me good fortune." She liked watching Daryl touch her dreamcather. Dreamcatchers protected the person sleeping under them from nightmares. Beause of that they were considered to be a very personal item. Most people wouldn't have touched hers without asking first. But she liked that Daryl did. Watching the feathers slip through his fingers made Rowan aware that more than anything she wanted to sleep with Daryl under the watchful eye of not just any dreamcatcher, but the one her father made for her. The web would catch their bad dreams and disolve them once the light of day streamed in through the window, only allowing the good dreams to flow down through the feathers and in to their unconcious minds. Rowan had a feeling that Daryl had a lot of bad dreams. And she wanted to be the one to chase them away for him.


	10. Chapter 10

Big Yellow Taxi

Chapter 10

Rowan would have been perfectly content to stay in her room with Daryl, even if it meant she would miss the rest of the opening night of her favorite festival of the year. But she could see how uncomfortable he was. It was written in the set of his shoulders and the stiff posture of his body. If she didn't already know better she might have concluded that the man perched on the edge of her bed wasn't attracted to her. But Daryl's reaction to her gentle touch in the pantry earlier had made her certain that he was. Rowan finally decided he must just be acting awkward because he was shy. It was unusual behavior for a man his age. And especially unusual for a man as physically attractive as him. Rowan knew there was no way that she was the first woman to have invited Daryl into her bedroom.

"It's a beautiful night," Rowan said, "why don't we go back outside..." Daryl stood up quickly and Rowan could see the relief on his face. She smiled, hoping she had done the right thing and feeling like she had. Interacting with Daryl, Rowan felt a bit like she was treading water in an unknown sea. She was used to acting on her instincts but with him she felt like she was double thinking and overthinking everything she did and said. If she had been as interested in a man from her community as she was in Daryl, she would have simply stated her intentions plainly. Not that there wasn't ever any romance, but when it came to any type of sexual relationship the men and women Rowan was used to interacting with tended to leave the guess work out. It wasn't a requirement to get verbal consent from one's partner before engaging in sex, but it was strongly encouraged.

A man from a neighboring community had once told Rowan upon meeting her that he thought she had a beautiful body and that he wanted to see more of it, in private. Several times now she had considered saying something similar to Daryl, but she was afraid it might make him more uncomfortable. A blatant statement like that might even be considered rude or inappropriate for all she knew. Rowan didn't want to make herself look like a fool. And she sure didn't want to scare Daryl off. So for the time being, she decided to follow his lead and see where it took her.

As they walked outside Rowan turned her attention to the greater world around her. The sun was getting lower in the sky, with night bringing a respite from the heat of the day. The birds were settling into their nests for the night, leaving the bullfrogs and the crickets to sing their evening song. Rowan could hear the ticking of an angel-wing katydid coming from somewhere right outside the door to her building. Hearing them was easier than spotting them since they disguised themselves as leaves.

Rowan paused, kneeling down to pluck a sprig of rosemary from her mother's garden. The rosemary bush near their back garden door was the same one that Rowan's mother had planted when she was preganant with her. It had been growing there for 25 years and producing beautiful pale blue flowers every summer since Rowan was two. Most of the blooms had gone for the season, chased away by the cooler temperatures of night. But Rowan found a sprig that still had a few blooms clinging to it. Breaking the woody stem with her fingers, she tucked it behind her ear. The strong scent from breaking the woody stem of the plant clung to her fingertips and she held them to her nose, closing her eyes as she breathed in the raw essence of the plant.

An herb as common as rosemary had hundreds of different uses including many that were culinary as well as medicinal. But Rowan always associated the herb with the traditional rosemary focaccia bread her mother baked for weddings and handbindings. The smell brought to mind promises of love eternal and vows of passion. Women sometimes even wove sprigs of the plant into the flowered wreaths they wore at festivals as a test for potential mates. Girls would say a man who didn't notice the fragrance of that particular herb was unable to give them true love. Since most of the men these woman were flirting with were already wise to this particular game, Rowan always thought it was a silly thing to do.

Rowan brushed her hands off on her skirt, the smell of the rosemary diffusing off into the air around her. When she had bent down to get the plant, she knew Daryl was watching her. Rowan had already noticed that he was very observant, and not only of her. His eyes scanned over everyone and everything around them. Rowan bet if she covered his eyes with her herb scented hands that he could describe their surroundings to perfection without even peeking.

As they walked down the path and out away from the building, the cooler air hit Rowan and sent a shiver up her spine. She loosened the knot that was holding her grandmother's fringed shall around her waist. After shaking the folds out of the fabric she wrapped it around her shoulders instead, covering up the bare skin of her back and shoulders. Once she was bundled, Rowan reached for Daryl's hand. She knew she was planning to wait and let him make the next big move, but that didn't mean she wasn't allowed to offer up some subtle encouragement. She smiled and giggled a little at herself as her fingers closed around his. Instead of holding her hand, he pulled her by it, wrapping her arm around his waist and then slinging his arm around her shoulders. His body was warm compared to the cool breeze and she appreciated both the close manly smell of him and his shared body heat.

"If yer cold, I kin get ya my leather jacket from offa my bike," Daryl offered. He had taken it off and left it hanging over the seat when they passed by on the way back from loading the puppy into Rick's car. Now he wished he had kept it on him. Rowan smiled up at Daryl and hugged him a little closer. She liked the idea of wearing something of his and having his scent rub off onto her. But she liked having him hold her close even better.

"No," she assured him, her fingers grazing up and down his ribs through the material of his cotton t-shirt, "I like this."

Daryl almost told her he liked it too, but instead he kept quiet and brought his other hand up to nibble at the skin around his thumbnail. The truth was he liked holding her. A lot. Maybe even too much. Because as Rowan's slim fingers danced up and down the side of him all he could think about was lifting her up into his arms and carrying her back to the bed he had been sitting on only a few moments before. Daryl was having a hard time defining the way he was feeling. He had obviously had sexual urges before. Everyone did. Sex was like eating or drinking or going to the bathroom. It was a normal part of life. Daryl had always looked at his sexual urges the same as any other urge, they were just another nuisance chore to take care of. He had never been as strongly attracted to a specific woman before as he was to Rowan. He wasn't sure what it was about her, she was just different from other girls.

Since Rowan specifically said she liked him holding her, Daryl pulled her in tighter to the side of him. He leaned in close and took a deep breath in through his nose. Rowan smelled better than anything he had ever smelled before in his life. The odor of the weed they had smoked earlier lingered in her hair, mixing in with the piney scent of the small branch of blue flowers she had tucked behind her ear. In combination with her general feminine fragrance, the aroma was intoxicating and it made him wonder how long her womanly scent would linger on his pillows if he took her to bed. Waking up to that every day would be like waking up to the smell of bacon frying and fresh coffee brewing. Just like absolute heaven.

"That flower behind yer ear...," he finally asked, "what is it?" The scent was familiar but not one Daryl usually associated with flowers. It smelled more like the little mixed jar of dried herbs he used to flavor up his venison steaks before he grilled them.

"What do you think it is?," Rowan asked back, a hint of a teasing flirty tone in her voice. She would still sleep with Daryl even if he couldn't tell the difference between opal basil and a dog turd, but just for fun she wanted to see if he could guess it right.

"Dunno," Daryl said. He finally pulled his thumb away from his mouth. With what Rowan considered to be a very serious look on his face he leaned in closer to her and closed his eyes. She closed her eyes too, a tiny hum escaping her lips when the side of his face brushed against hers. "Smells almost like rosemary, but I know that ain't right," Daryl finally announced, pulling back and watching for Rowan's response to see how wrong he was.

"It is rosemary," Rowan gushed. She opened her mouth to say something else and quickly snapped it shut again. Daryl didn't know anything about the silly superstitions involving the plant and using it to find your soul mate. Rowan was afraid if she tried to explain the stories she would make herself sound like the silly little girl she was acting like. So she settled on a simpler and more adult explanation. "Girls here like to wear it to festivals," Rowan said, her face starting to turn red under her painted designs, "they say if a man notices the smell of it on you then it means..." Her voice tapered off and she sucked in the side of her full bottom lip, nippling on it like Daryl had been nibbling on his thumb just seconds before. Now she was the one feeling shy, afraid that speaking her wishes out loud might make it so they didn't come true.

"It means what?," Daryl encouraged. He had never had such and interesting conversation about kitchen spices before. If whatever him smelling the rosemary meant was enough to turn the tips of Rowan's freckled ears pink then he wanted to hear what it was.

Rowan looked down, fiddling with the fringe on her scarf. He moved even closer to her, putting his other hand on her waist and pulling her to face him. "What's it mean?," he asked again, "Ain't bad is it?" Rowan smiled and shook her head. Without warning Rowan's dark eyes flicked up, locking on his. Her eyes were dark, but up close they were full of so many different colors. Olive green with a rim of turquiose and more of a golden brown in the center. As she looked at him her pupils explanded, ink black crowding out the hazel green.

"If a man can recgonize the smell of the rosemary it means he'll be a good lover," Rowan said, her hesitation at saying the words gone now that Daryl had his hands on her.

"Is that why ya put it behind yer ear?," Daryl asked, "to see if I knew what it was?"

He was smiling now. The first real smile she had seen from him that he wasn't trying to hide. Rowan smiled back, shaking her head again. She had been impressed that he knew what the plant was, she wasn't expecting that, but she had just picked it on a whim with no intentions at all. The last sprig of summer blooms had called to her. Rowan reached up and pulled the rosemary from behind her ear. Sliding her hand around Daryl's back she stuffed the sprig into the back pocket of Daryl's jeans, not being shy about coping a slight and not really that discreet feel of his ass while she was in the area.

"No," Rowan told him, the tip of her finger still hooked in his jeans pocket, "I don't need a flower to tell me that you'll be good in bed. I already know."

Daryl's eyes opened a little wider at her brazen words and for a moment Rowan thought she had said too much. But then the corners of his mouth twitched back up into a grin. Daryl almost laughed out loud. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting her to say, but he wasn't expecting that. Rowan sounded so sure and so sincere about her opinon of him. Sexy and sweetly innocent at the same time. He had never recieved a compliment quite like it before and he doubted he would ever get another one.

Rowan leaned into him, her small breasts pressing against his chest. Her eyes fluttered shut and she tilted her head back slightly. She seemed to be expecting something and for a moment Daryl wasn't sure what it was. Then the tip of her pink tounge darted out to wet her lips. The hand that she had been touching his ribs with slid up, her fingers twining into the overgrown hair at the back of his neck. He almost laughed at how clueless he was being. She was waiting for him to kiss her.

The noise of the evening seemed to still around them. Even the cool breeze stopped blowing. Daryl leaned in slowly, trying to decide if he was going in for a gentle peck or something more substantial. The tip of his nose touched Rowan's and he adjusted his stance, tilting his head slightly to the right. But his lips only brushed against the side of her mouth for a fraction of a second before they were both knocked off balance.

"Mom?," Rowan gasped once she had regained her composure and footing. The woman had come running around from the front of the building and plowed right into them. Her face was red and she was breathing hard like she had been running hard for a long time. "What's wrong?" Her mother's worried and disheveled appearance was alarming. Rowan's mother approached life with a calm and soothing confidence. She always seemed ready for things before they happened. Nothing surprised her.

Instead of answering, Rowan's mother placed her hands on her daughter's shoulders and looked the taller woman over, checking her for any obvious injuries and staring into her face to make sure nothing was wrong. Realizing she had worked herself up into a panic for no reason, Lola pulled her daughter close and tiptoed up to kiss her on the cheek.

"I'm fine," Rowan assured her mother, "I'm really okay mom." Rowan paused, glancing at Daryl. She wanted to ask her mother what sort of terrible vision had gotten her so upset but Rowan wasn't sure how Daryl felt about psychic abilities. That last thing she wanted was for him to think they were all a bunch of lunatics. Rowan squared up her shoulders. Rowan cared about Daryl's opinion of her, but she also refused to be embarassed or ashamed of her mother. "What did you see?," Rowan asked.

Rowan's mother hugged her again before she explained. She had been setting up her little pop tent. The one that offered her a little privacy to do readings for the people that were waiting to speak to her. One of her friends had helped her to set up the table and lay out a few colorful scarves to cover the scratched up wood. Lola was lighting a meditation candle when the vision hit her. She saw Rowan as a little girl again, running off into the woods. And then she was missing and her mother couldn't find her anywhere. Rowan was gone forever. Her mother had lost her.

"I'm right here," Rowan assured the woman, smoothing down her mother's silky copper hair with her hands as the woman clung to her. "The furthest I went was to the parking area," Rowan soothed.

"Wasn't gonna take her no where," Daryl interjected. He paused a moment, kicking at the dirt between two paving stones before he added, "Ain't no kidnapper." The truth was he had been thinking about taking Rowan out for ice cream, which was mostly just an excuse to get her on the back of his bike. But that was before she started up with all the sex talk and the touching. Then he had only been thinking about taking her back to her room and kicking her dog off the bed, not snatching her up and taking her out to the woods like some psycho killer.

"Oh!," Rowan's mother exclaimed. She turned to face the young man like she hadn't realized before that he was standing there despite having almost knocked him down into the lilac bushes. He was very attractive. She had been too busy at the market earlier to really take full notice of him. He was ruggedly handsome and much older than she originally thought. There were even a few white hairs mingled into the blonde hair of his goatee. And did he ever have eyes for her daughter. His gaze was fixed on Rowan. Lola had seen men look at her daughter like that before. It usually meant they were about to get their hearts broken and for a moment she felt pity for him.

"I'm so sorry," Lola said, "I in no way meant to accuse you of anything." Rowan stepped forward and took her place next to Daryl, linking fingers with his. She wished it had been under less strange circumstances, but she was still happy to have him meet her mother.

"Mom this is Daryl," Rowan announced with a grin so big it showed her crooked tooth. Something about saying his name just made her smile. "Daryl, this is Lola, my mother." Lola reached for Daryl's free hand with both of hers. She was covered in the same freckles as her daughter and they bore a striking resemblence in their facial features. They even had the same tattoos on their hands. Rowan was taller and had darker eyes and hair. But other than they they could have been the same woman in different stages of life. Lola's smaller hands closed around Daryl's larger one. Her hands were surprisingly warm to the touch. The only thing about her that wasn't warm and coppery colored were her eyes. They were a clear aqua blue, the pupils in the center reflecting the colors of the sunset. She held onto Daryl's hand a moment longer, as though she was testing his mettle through the skin of her hands.

"Blessed be," Lola told him. Daryl had come to understand by now that this was the standard statement for both greeting and leaving people so he gave her a little nod in return. "I would like to stay and visit but I have to get back to the festival," she told him. Then just as suddenly as she had arrived, the woman turned and hurried off. Rowan giggled and shook her head.

"Don't worry," Rowan told Daryl, her hand releasing his so she could snuggle in under his arm again, "it's not you. My mom always gets a little squirrely when she knows my Dad's coming for a visit." Rowan's simple explanation combined with the word squirrely made Daryl laugh along with her. He laughed harder than he could remember laughing in a long time. If there ever was a word for how that woman had been acting, squirrely was it. He could see the strength in her eyes and feel it in her hands, but she was running around like she was a few bricks shy of a full load.

"They divorced?," he asked. Rowan shook her head. Her parents had never been married. She was the product of a passionate love affair.

"My grandfather brought my father here to go on his first vision quest," Rowan explained. She had a sweet smile on her face and a peaceful faraway look in her eyes as she spoke. The story of how her parents met was one of her favorite stories of all time. "He heard my mother singing and he followed the sound, thinking it was part of his vision and he was about to find his spirit guide." Rowan stopped to giggle again before she continued on. "Instead he found my mother bathing naked at the edge of the river."

"What happened next?," Daryl asked at the risk of sounding like a pervert. He had gotten caught up in the story. It was so much better than the story his brother told him about how he came to be born, which pretty much amounted to the depressing tale of how his father stopped beating his mother long enough to fuck her and then forgot to pull out. And besides the content of her story, Rowan had a way of telling it that made Daryl feel like he was seeing the events unfold with his own eyes.

"Well nine months later I was born," Rowan teased, tickling Daryl's ribs to make him laugh harder. She loved the sound of his laughter. As he laughed, Rowan moved quickly. She darted in and kissed Daryl on his smiling cheek, yanking back before he knew what had happened. As Daryl's laughter tapered off, Rowan stared down the path that her mother had taken as she hurried back to the party, wondering what in the world had gotten into the normally calm and collected woman. The part about her father was true, her mother always said his presence tossed her off balance. But Rowan wondered if it might be more than that this time.

Lola could hear them giggling as she hurried away. Her daughter's musical laughter mingled in with Daryl's lower and more reserved rumble. She wiped the tears that were spilling from her eyes. Her visions were never wrong, but sometimes her interpretation of them was. She now understood that she had taken her last one far too literally. Rowan had not disappeared into the woods or been snatched away by some strange man she met at the market. Instead one of Lola's worst fears was coming true.

Rowan had always been wild. Even as a child she had strayed too far away, climbed too high, swam out too deep. Rowan had an adventurous spirit and Lola had always been afraid that her only child might someday look for a life that was bigger than the small closed community she had been born into.

She might have only just met him, but Rowan was in love. Lola had seen it in her eyes. Many men had looked at Rowan with so much more than lust on their minds. It had been happening since she was a teenager. But Rowan had never looked back at them in the same way, until today. What scared Lola was that the man Rowan loved was not one of them. He was from the outside. And that's where he would want to take Rowan. Away with him. That what the vision had been about, Rowan leaving was Lola's worst fear. The one she kept buried deep down inside her belly and never spoke of aloud to anyone. She was afraid that Rowan would fall in love with a man that wasn't one of them. And leave. Of course Lola had always assumed it would be someone from Rowan's father's indian reservation, not a random man Rowan met at the farmer's market.

Lola had been hoping and wishing for years that Rowan would find someone within their community that she could love. Someone to ground her and keep her from flying away. Lola knew it was a selfish wish, but she just didn't want to lose her daughter.


	11. Chapter 11

Big Yellow Taxi

Chapter 11

Reflection time. The old man with the long scruffy looking beard that stood up and addressed the small crowd called what they were doing quiet reflection time. Daryl wasn't sure what that meant but he was smart enough to know he ought to keep his mouth shut and follow along with what everyone else was doing to avoid making an ass out of himself.

He and Rowan were sitting on a small section of a low brick wall. Parts of it had crumbled away but there were a few sections left standing that were being occupied as seating around the outside of the loosely formed gathering. Daryl glanced around. Some people had their heads bowed like they were praying while others were staring up into the evening sky. Rowan was doing the latter. Her head was tilted slightly back and she was staring up at the full moon that was not visible in the evening sky. Her body was relaxed and her breathing had slowed down. The expression on her face held the look of someone that was totally at peace with the world. Daryl felt calmer just looking at her.

Since he was fairly sure he wasn't supposed to be using his quiet reflection time to stare at the woman next to him, Daryl followed her example and looked up at the sky. He had always enjoyed being outdoors, so staring up at the sky as a way to relax didn't feel like such a bad idea. The moon was full and larger than it usually appeared. It wasn't as orange as it sometimes got around this time of the year but there was a faint ring of light around it. Daryl wondered if the ring meant anything and he guessed it probably did. There was a lot of hunting lore that revolved around the moon and what cycles of it were good for hunting different types of animals. Daryl had never paid any of it much attention before and now he sort of wished he had. It made the corners of his mouth turn up to think that he was sitting with a woman that not only might know what the light reflecting around the moon meant, but that wouldn't think he was crazy stupid for asking about it.

There was a ring around the harvest moon. Rowan knew to some people a ring around the moon was a good omen. Others believed it was a sign of troubles or hardships to come. Her mother said a ring around the moon simply meant it was going to rain soon and that they ought to bring the hammocks inside. But to Rowan a ring around the moon always brought to mind a quote from one of her very favorite books. _But still sometimes, when the wind is warm or the crickets sing... I dream of a love that even time will lie down and be still for._ Rowan read that worn out old paperback until it fell apart and Aaron had taped the binding back together for her with duct tape and then she and Ayla had read it aloud to each other until even the duct tape wore off. Rowan read and she read and she waited for someone to love her like the woman in the book.

A loud crackle broke the silence. The fire had been lit inside the large fire pit and now it was licking upwards, devoring the teepee of logs that were centered neatly over it. The ceremonial bonfire wouldn't remain as big as it was currently, but Rowan's people would take turns keeping the fire going all week as long as they didn't have any heavy rain. During the day it would burn down to no more than a tiny smodering ember. Then at night they would build the fire back up to encourage people to gather around it. Different activites would take place on different nights, ranging from story telling to singing to guided meditation or even some more romantic gatherings. These happenings would vary depending on who showed up and what sort of entertaiment they were in the mood for. But on the first night of the festival there was always dancing.

"One finger or two?," Aaron asked, a teasing tone to his voice. Daryl had been watching the people that were building the fire up to an impressive size. He hadn't even noticed the man coming towards them until he was already speaking to Rowan. She giggled at the intentional double entendre of her friend's words. Rowan cast a sideways glance at Daryl before she held up two of her slender tattooed fingers and wiggled them in the air.

Aaron had a large clear wine bottle in his hands that was almost all the way full of bright green liquid. The color of it was sickening and the odor that wafted out as the man poured two fingers worth out into a small mason jar for Rowan was even worse. It smelled like the nasty black colored jelly beans that Daryl picked out of the bag and threw away in the trash. Daryl wrinkled up his nose as he watched Rowan tilt the small jelly jar back and swallow the liquid inside. She didn't flinch or even make a face, leaving Daryl to assume that this was not her first time drinking this particular mixture.

Aaron looked at him questioningly as he took the empty jelly jar back from Rowan. Thankfully he did not ask the finger question again, but he did gesture towards the bottle and raise his eyebrows. Daryl cast a sideways glance at Rowan, hoping to get some sort of indication from her on what she thought he should do. She giggled and shrugged her shoulders.

"What is it?," Daryl asked. The color of the liquid wasn't inviting and the smell was even worse. He had never seen or smelled anything quite like it and being that he was Merle's brother, he had done more than his fair share of drugs.

"It's fairy magic," Rowan teased, making Aaron laugh along with her. Her face turned serious and she made another suggestion as she nodded towards Daryl. "Maybe you better only give him half a finger." Daryl snorted out a grunt of indignation, appalled at the suggestion that he was some sort of a lightweight. He had to weigh at least double what the woman beside him weighed and he bet he could hold his liquor better too.

"I'll have what she had," Daryl anounced with more conviction than he felt. He watched Rowan out of the corner of his eye to gauge her reaction. She simply shrugged her shoulders and continued smiling at him. Daryl was a little hesitant to consume the liquid, but since Rowan had drunk some he figured he would be a real boring date if he didn't have at least a little. He didn't know her well yet, but he felt her knew her well enough to know she wouldn't allow him to drink anything that was going to hurt him or make him sick.

Aaron carefully poured two servings of the bright green liquid out into the small jar and handed it to Daryl. Daryl gave the contents of the jar a suspicious sniff, wincing at the sickly sour odor. It was strong alcohol, probably homemade moonshine. But he had never seen any that was colored or flavored in quite the same way before. Since the smell was bad, he figured the taste was going to be even worse. Daryl followed Rowan's example and tossed the stuff down his throat, swallowing it as quickly as possible. He tried to control his facial features, but he couldn't help but scowl at the taste that lingered in his mouth.

"Blessed be," Aaron told him, his voice teasing again as he winked at Rowan. The people on the next section of brick wall were waving the man over, wanting some of what he had in his bottle. He offered Rowan up one more handsome smile before heading off in their direction.

Rowan sprung to her feet like a cat. She reached her arms above her head, stretching out her shoulders. Her top lifted up with her movements, giving Daryl a glimpse of the soft white skin on the underside of her breasts. It was the only part of her he had seen yet that wasn't coated in the same pale amber colored freckles. The sight of her alabaster skin caused a deep pull in the pit of his stomach and he allowed his mind to wander, thinking about what other parts of her might also be that white and silky looking. Rowan stretched her shoulders once more, her movements slower and more deliberate. Daryl could have sworn she was doing it on purpose this time, fully aware of the effect she was having on him. Her arms lowered and she spun around, her hair and the fringe on her shall flying out around her.

"Let's go drum," she suggested, leaning forward to grasp Daryl by the hands with both of hers. He hesitated a moment before letting her pull him to his feet. He wasn't sure if he wanted to drum, but in the same breath he was eternally grateful that Rowan hadn't asked him to dance with her. He couldn't dance and actively avoided any social situation that would require him to make a complete jerk of himself.

Rowan led him close enough to the fire that he could feel the heat of it without being uncomfortable. She sat down in the well trampled grass facing him and pulled a small set of two drums that were hooked together between them. Daryl could tell just by looking that the drums were an old well loved set. The tops were dirty and worn from many set of hands playing them. The painted designs on the sides were so worn and chipped it was hard to even tell what had been painted there in the first place.

Someone on the other side of the fire had already started up a beat, playing with a few sticks on a much larger set of bongo drums than the small set Rowan had borrowed to use. She leaned forward with her eyes closed, her dark lashes and the flickering firelight making shadows across her cheeks. Rowan listened first, trying to catch the beat. She wasn't musically inclined, but tapping along with a drum beat didn't require much skill. Using only the tips of her fingers at first, she started strumming lightly on her side of the drum.

Daryl wasn't a dancer, but that didn't mean he was without any natural rhythm. He watched Rowan, leaning in to follow along with the beat she was tapping out when he was sure he could follow the graceful movements of her hands. Once she heard Daryl tapping on his side of the drum Rowan's eyes flicked open and a beautiful smile spread out across her face. She wasn't sure how comfortable Daryl was with the festivities and she felt overjoyed that he was playing with her instead of trying to find an excuse to leave.

The more Rowan looked at the man in front of her, the more attractive he seemed to become. Daryl had been good looking in the light of day, but with the flickering firelight making his blue eyes turn dark he was really magnificent. Rowan let her eyes take it in, moving slowly over the contours of his face and the firm set of his shoulders. Daryl started laughing at her before Rowan realized she had stopped drumming and was staring at him like a hungry wolf. Setting one hand down on top of the drum set to brace herself, Rowan lifted up onto her knees and leaned across the small distance between her and Daryl, planting a kiss right on the side of his smiling mouth. She still remembered the internal speech she had given herself about playing it cool and letting him make the first move. But in that moment she felt like she might die if she didn't hurry up and kiss him already.

The kiss took Daryl by surprise. One second she was staring at him like he had grown a third eye and the next moment Rowan's soft lips were pressed down on his. He was taken by surprise but he recovered quickly, grasping her arm before she could even lower herself back down into a sitting position and pulling her back towards him. The moment his lips pushed down on hers he felt her yield to him completely. She wasn't sexually agressive like most of the women he had encountered before. But she made it clear that she was more than willing to be kissed by him as long and deeply as he wanted.

Her lips parted, inviting his tounge into her mouth. And when his tounge tangled with hers she moaned softly, breathing hard through her nose. Their teeth grazed as Rowan fell off balance. The drum set she was braced her hand on had tipped over in the soft dirt and would have sent her falling into the dirt as well if Daryl hadn't have caught her and steadied her with his strong hands.

Daryl looked around, suddenly remembering that he was in the middle of a crowd of strangers. Public displays of affection weren't really his thing. But as he glanced around he relaxed. People were dancing and playing musical instruments. Some were even kissing as he and Rowan had. No one seemed to be paying them any special attention. Only one man was even looking their way. He stood back towards the tree line with his hands crossed in front of his chest. The man had long dark hair and Daryl felt like he seen him before even though he was sure he hadn't. Daryl felt like the man's presence should be disturbing. But it wasn't. In fact he was smiling at Daryl and Rowan like he was genuinely happy to see them. Daryl's attention was draw back to the woman in front of him. Rowan was fumbling, the fringe on her scarf caught in the metal hinge of the drum set. Daryl looked down to help her and when he looked back up, the man was gone. Melted back into the woods like he had never been there at all.

 **** This chapter contained a quote from the book Practical Magic by Alice Hoffman. ****


	12. Chapter 12

Big Yellow Taxi

Chapter 12

 ****This chapter contains some sexual content between my OC Ayla and Merle that plays with the line of being non-consensual due to her being intoxicated. It will end up being important to the storyline as a whole so I would suggest reading it, but I wanted to throw up a warning just in case so no one gets upset. Big thanks to anyone that took the time to leave a review.****

Ayla was laughing harder than she could remember laughing in a long time. Her stomach hurt and she was having trouble catching her breath. She couldn't remember being quite so high before either, which she figured might account for at least a portion of her laughter. Merle had been laughing along with her at first. But after a few minutes he leaned her up against one of the long kitchen counters and thrust a cup of water at her. From the seriously not amused anymore look on his face, Ayla took this to mean her giggling had stopped being cute and funny.

She sipped at the water, forcing herself to take slow even breaths in though her nose and out through her mouth. Pushing her long golden hair back behind her, she used her hand to smooth down the wild strands and straighten the halo of flowers on her head, hoping she hadn't embarrassed herself too badly. She wasn't really much of a smoker. The only time Ayla even smoked pot was if she was having her moontime. And even then she only took a few puffs of the stuff Rowan's mom grew, just enough to take the edge off her cramps. She had only smoked as much as she did today because she had been hoping to impress the man in front of her. Now she felt like she had not only not impressed him, she had also suceeded in making herself look like a silly little girl.

"Feel better?," Merle asked her. Ayla nodded and cast her eyes down at her feet. She took another sip of water.

"I don't usually smoke so much," she admitted. Ayla braced herself for whatever was coming next. She assumed Merle was probably going to make up some sort of excuse to leave so he could get the hell away from her. To any average woman, Merle Dixon would have appeared to be just another run of the mill biker. But having only seen the small slice of life that she had been born to, to Ayla he seemed very worldly and sophisticated. She assumed the man had seen all sorts of things she had never even dreamt of and probably spent his time with women that knew how to drive motorcycles and didn't go giggly crazy over a few puffs of marijuana.

"S'alright," he drawled, "ya just need something to even you out." Ayla wasn't sure what he meant, but anything he said in his thick southern drawl sounded good. His voice reminded her of liquid caramel. She nodded her head and finished off the rest of the water in her cup, assuming that was what he meant.

But water was not what Merle had in mind. He had spotted a few bottles down in the bottom of the pantry they had been hiding in. Bottles that looked like they might be full of something alcoholic. Given where he was, he figured the best he could hope for was some home brewed moonshine. But he would settle for whatever got him drunk.

The large amber colored grolsch bottles he had spotted ended up being full of hard cider. Not exactly his beverage of choice, but then again he was never too picky when it came to getting drunk. After the small sample he had ingested, he took another long pull on the bottle before handing it to Ayla. She took the bottle from him but looked at it hesitantly before taking a small sip. The tops of her breasts were as flushed as her cheeks. Her little laughing fit had been severely annoying but Merle reminded himself that he should have been expecting it. Giggling and acting silly was the sort of bullshit that came along with trying to bag a woman that was really still a girl and far too young for him. Annoying was part of the package.

"It'll calm ya down," he encouraged, gesturing to the bottle in her hands that Ayla still didn't look too sure about drinking. He snorted out a grunt of not so subtle encouragment. This girl sure had been all about the false advertising, talking about being a freak when she didn't even look like she ever had a drink before. Merle shrugged his shoulders, satisfied that the woman was physically attractive enough to make up for her unwillingness to blow him as soon as he got her alone. She smelled better than any girl he had been with in a long time. Her hair was long and looked freshly washed. And while her face was only average, her body was a different story. The baggy dress she was wearing when he met her at the market didn't do her justice. Now that she was dressed in a crochet halter top that didn't leave much to the imagination Merle could see how full and firm her breasts were. Her waist was tiny by comparison and the slice of her stomach that her shirt exposed was taunt and deeply tanned.

Ayla took another hesitant sip from the bottle. She wasn't sure how getting drunk was going to help her feel less high. Maybe Merle knew something she didn't. At least he was smiling at her again, which made her feel less embarrased about how silly she had been acting. She smiled back, her heart rate increasing when he closed the small distance between them and rested his hand on her waist. He put his hand under the bottom of the bottle in her hands and pushed it up until it was level with her mouth. She assumed this meant he wanted her to take another drink so she tipped the bottle slightly. He kept his hand there, tilting the wine bottle at a steeper angle so Ayla was forced to take a few hard gulps to avoid spilling the cider all over the front of herself.

Ayla brought her other hand up and pushed his away, lowering the bottle and gasping for air. Alcohol had dribbled out of the corners of her mouth. Before she could wipe it away with the back of her hand, his mouth was crashing down on hers. The kiss started so rough she felt a momentary jolting pang as his teeth scraped against hers. He pulled the bottle from her hand to keep her from dropping it and set it down on the counter behind her, his mouth never leaving hers. His other hand was fisted into her hair, pulling at it to tilt her head back. As his tounge explored her mouth his hips ground into hers, pressing her lower back into the edge of the counter behind her.

Ayla had never had a man handle her so roughly before. Her mind was still in shock, leaving her arms crushed against his chest as her hands pressed flat against the soft cotton of his tshirt. Despite being taken completely by surprise, she felt her body responding to what was being done to her. Her nipples were hard inside her top, and she found herself shifting her hips so he could press in harder against her instead of trying to wiggle away.

If a few people hadn't entered the kitchen, one of them clearing his throat as loud as he could on purpose, Ayla wasn't sure what would have happened. As it was Merle backed slightly away from her and regarded the two people that had come in to put some of the food away with a very insincere smile. Ayla smiled at them, hers being a little more genuine. One of the people was a woman from her mother's small living group. She didn't recognize the man, but from the way he was dressed Ayla knew he was probably from one of the neighboring communities that was visiting for the festival.

"Hi Ayla," the older woman said, the posture of her shoulders tense as she regarded the man holding her friend's daughter with a suspicious glance. Ayla giggled and raised her hand to wiggle her fingers at the woman, not trusting herself to speak since she was afraid her voice would come out sounding shaky. "You alright in here?," the woman asked. Ayla nodded her head, moving to wrap her arm around Merle's waist in an effort meant to clearly demonstrate to the woman that she wasn't being forced or coerced by him. So far she was having just about the most exciting time she could imagine and the last thing she needed was for her mother to come looking for her and ruin everything.

"Maybe we better go somewheres a little more private," Merle suggested, leaning close to whisper into her ear. The feel of his breath on her earlobe sent a tingling shiver up her spine. She nodded, more than eager to agree to be alone with him.

Merle snagged the still mostly full bottle of cider and tossed his arm around her, giving the nosy interlopers another big fake grin before he started leading Ayla towards the door. The woman stared after him like she was thinking about saying something.

"See you fine folks later," Merle called back, eager to cut the woman off before she could figure out what she wanted to say. Leading Ayla out the door, Merle let the screen slap shut behind him. He hadn't liked the way that nosy old bitch had been looking at him. Like he was some kind of rapist. All he had been doing to Ayla was kissing her. Sure he had copped a feel too but it's not like she had been complaining about it. It was clear to him that this girl had invited him here for sex. He was just giving her what she wanted.

"We can go out to one of the barns," Ayla suggested. There was a pretty view from the hayloft of the goat barn. She and Rowan liked to go there to watch the sunset together or sometimes even with other friends. And Ayla knew with the festival going on that the barns were the one place where she doubted they would run into anyone else. The thought of being alone with Merle had her feeling a strange mixture of nervousness and excitement. It felt like a big bat was flapping around in her stomach. She had never had a man get so forcefull with her before and she took his behavior to mean that he must really like her a lot.

As they walked, Merle took a sip from the bottle in his hand. He tipped his head back as he drank, revealing the taunt cords of his neck. After a few swallows he handed the bottle to Ayla. She wasn't sure if she ought to drink anymore. Like smoking, she only had a glass of wine or two once in a while. She wasn't sure what would happen to her if she drank more than that. Ayla lifted the bottle to her lips, worried that if she didn't drink along with him Merle would think she was an inexperienced girl that wasn't worth his time. Rowan was older and always made being cool seem so effortless. Unlike her Ayla has always felt like it was a struggle to figure out who she was and find her place. She had a tendency to try to hard to impress people, sometimes to her own detriment. This night was no exception.

By the time they got to the barn, Ayla was dizzy from the amount of alcohol she had consumed. The bottle was empty and she was sure she had probably drunk at least a third of it if not half. Merle tossed it down near a half full bucket of goat food. Ayla thought about telling him to pick it up and discard it properly. Littering was one of the things that was considered a rather serious violation in her community. But instead she just convinced herself that it was fine since she would be sure to clean up the mess later. Merle clearly didn't know the rules and she didn't want to make him feel bad.

Ayla grabbed for the rungs of the ladder that led up to the loft and missed. She felt like she was seeing double. On the second try she managed to grasp hold of the rungs. Merle gripped the sides of the ladder and she was grateful for the feel of his body pressing in behind her to keep her from falling. Luckily, she had climbed that same ladder enough times that muscle memory took over and she made it up to the loft without another mishap.

The loft smelled like warm hay, a scent that Ayla had always found comforting. The roof came to a high peak in the center, leaving enough room to stand up straight. Bales of hay were stacked up along the walls where the roof was lower. Loose bits of straw covered the roughly planked wooden floor, making a soft cushion for walking or sitting. Over near the loft doors, which had been left open to allow the heat to escape, there were a few old quilts that were stacked and folded up.

Ayla made her way over to them, putting her hands on the slope of the roof to keep from staggering. She knelt down and started fumbling with one of the blankets, trying to set up a good spot to watch the sunset even though most of the pretty part had already happened on the walk over. Night was already setting in, making it harder for her to see what she was doing.

Merle must have decided that she was getting too close to the open loft door, because her grabbed her and gently hauled her back away from the edge. He sat her down on a bale of hay and told her to stay put. Then he took the blanket she had been fumbling with and shook it, spreading it out to cover the straw on the floor. Ayla leaned back, bumping her head against the inside of the roof hard enough to make her wince. Her flowered head piece was knocked off and it fell down into her lap. Ayla discarded it on the hay bale next to her. She didn't like how clumsy drinking had made her, but she found she sort of liked how relaxed she felt. She wasn't feeling so nervous anymore at least.

Once he had the blanket spread out, Merle sat down on it. He took off his riding jacket and pulled his shirt off over his head, leaving him bare from the waist up. There was still enough light coming in through the open loft doors that Ayla could see his back. And what she saw made her suck in her breath. His back was a roadmap of scars. Some were old and faded almost white while others were raised and much darker than the rest of his skin. She had never seen anything like it before and couldn't even begin to imagine what or who had been responsible for leaving the marks.

"Motorcycle accident," Merle announced, making Ayla realize she must have gasped loud enough for him to hear her. She immediately felt the need to reassure him that she still found him very attractive despite the marks on his body. Moving down from the hay bale, Ayla crawled over to where Merle was now lying on his back on the blanket. She snuggled down next to him and laid her head on his bare chest after she planted a small kiss on his cheek.

When Rowan asked Ayla later what she had been expecting to happen when she went up in the loft she had to admit that she wasn't sure. She had been eager to get Merle alone. And to kiss him again. But beyond that she hadn't really thought about it. Ayla didn't have a lot of sexual experience and the two men she had slept with before, especially the first one, had asked for her very specific permission before they took her somewhere to have sex with her. Since Merle hadn't mentioned anything about sex, she wrongly assumed that he only intended to kiss her some more or maybe even just have a quiet place to talk to her.

His hand stroked up her back, stopping to pull at the strings that were holding her top on. With the bows untied, he reached over with his other hand and yanked her top away from her body. His skin was warm in contrast to the cool breeze blowing in from outside and when he rolled on top of her Ayla was eager to hold him close. The moment she was on her back with her eyes closed the world started spinning around her. He started with her mouth but soon it felt like he was kissing and touching her everywhere at once.

She felt the cool air again, this time against the insides of her thighs as her long skirt was pushed up. The weight of his body lifted off and she the next sensation she felt was the little pink cotton panties she was wearing being dragged down her legs and pulled off. The cold air that rushed against her damp sex startled her and she snapped her thighs shut. Ayla opened her eyes, not able to see much now that the remaining light was gone. All that was visible was Merle's hulking form, kneeling in front of her.

There was an aubile clink, the sound of metal on metal followed by the rustle of Merle removing what remained of his clothing. Ayla felt his hands on her knees and she tensed, suddenly expecting him to force her legs open and take her as roughly as he had kissed her before. But when he felt her resistance he removed his hands and laid down next to her on the blanket instead.

His hand stroked over her stomach, the tips of his fingers brushing against the mound of soft curls between her legs. He nudged her face, tilting her head back so he reach the sensitive spot behind her ear with his tounge. In between kissing and nibbling at her earlobe he whispered into her ear, gently coaxing her. "Relax," he mumured, "ain't gunna hurt ya." Everything he was doing felt so good, Ayla felt like it was making it hard for her to think clearly. His hand stroked up and down the length of her thighs until she couldn't hold them together anymore. Her knees fell open and she arched her hips up against his hand.

She felt his hot breath on her again as he chuckled into her neck, teasing her a little longer by running his fingers lightly up and down the insides of her thighs. He entered her as suddenly as he had kissed her before, pushing in hard and deep with two of his thick calloused fingers. She gasped, her hands shooting down to grab at his wrist. He let her pull his hand away as he rolled on top of her, nestling his body down between her quivering thighs. Her hands were already on his hand so it only took a flip of his wrist for him to grab her by her wrists and pin her arms down to the blanket above her head. His other hand moved between them, lining up his throbbing erection with her slick opening before he pushed his hard length roughly inside her.

The walls inside her spasmed, reacting to being so completely filled. He let go of her hands, resting his elbows on either side of her head. His hips stayed still for a moment as he hissed against the tight clenching feel of her, not wanting things to be over too quickly. Her legs came up, wrapping around his waist in a way that only very limber girls could manage. He rose up, pulling almost all the way back out of her before shoving back inside her again. She gasped again, then started breathing out little high pitched squeaks through her nose. Merle kept his thrusts controlled, moving slowly and ending each thrust with a hard pump that filled her to the hilt. It was the soft little noises that she was making that made him lose control. By this time her arms had wrapped around him and her nails were digging into his back. He covered her mouth with his before he really started moving, fucking her hard and fast until she was coming undone under him and he was spilling himself deep inside her.

Merle collapsed on top of the girl, leaving his dick inside her warmth until it went soft and slid out on it's own. As he rolled off, Ayla sucked in a big breath of air. She stay on her back, clamping her legs together as the last few waves of her orgasm washed over her. She had enjoyed sex before, but never more than once in the same session. After the first two times she came she had lost count of how many times it happened.

Ayla's body felt like overcooked pasta and her insides were delicously sore in a way they never had been before. Her head felt clearer and her heart felt full of tender feelings for the man next to her. She rolled to her side, looking to be held and cuddled by the man that she was now sure was really in love with her. But instead of his warm body she found her hand sliding across the blanket, the space beside her already cold and empty.

Sitting up, Ayla glanced around in the dark barn, feeling confused. She picked out Merle's form, sitting on the floor tying his boots up. There was a soft rustle as he felt around for his shirt and pulled it back over his head. Once he was dressed he did reach for her, finding her shoulder with his hand and giving it a light slap.

"That was fun," he told her, "maybe we'll do it again some time sugar."

With that he was gone, feeling his way back across the loft and down the ladder. Ayla flopped down on the blanket, feeling cold and confused. For a moment she convinced herself that he must have climbed down to go to the bathroom. He would be back in any minute. She wrapped herself up in the blanket to keep the cool night air at bay and waited. Ayla listened quietly for Merle's return but the only sounds she heard were the soft rustles of the goats sleeping under her. After a while it became painfully obvious to her that not only was Merle not coming back, that maybe he didn't like her as much as she thought. Ayla pulled the blanket tighter, hugging it around herself and using the corner of it to mop up her tears.


	13. Chapter 13

Big Yellow Taxi

Chapter 13

Daryl knew whatever it was that he drank was having an affect on him as soon as he allowed Rowan to pull him to his feet. Not only did he not know how to dance at all, he hated dancing and thought people looked stupid while they were doing it. Rowan led him a few feet away, close to where the other people were frolicking around. There was an awkward shuffle of hands as Daryl realized he wasn't even sure of the proper way to hold her in his arms.

Rowan took Daryl's hands and positioned them on the tops of her hips. She wrapped her own arms around him, resting her hands on his shoulders. He held her stiffly, not moving at all despite the easy beat of the music. It hit her then. Daryl either didn't like to dance, or more probably he didn't know how to dance. Rowan had never met anyone before that didn't know how to dance. Not in all her life. She felt a momentary pang of pity for the man who's fingers were radiating warmth through the fabric of her flowy skirt. What a sad and joyless life he must have lived thus far, void of dancing and wonder and magic.

There wasn't a time in her life that Rowan could remember that didn't include dancing. Even before she learned to walk, her mother sang and danced with her in the kitchen. And once she was old enough to dance along on her own small feet, Rowan remembered her tiny hands in her mother's larger ones as her mother showed her how to bounce from one foot the other in time to the song she was singing, both of their hands covered in the same pale freckles. Even Rowan's father danced. She had a very distinct memory of waking up alone in her mother's big comfy bed one night. Being ever curious, Rowan padded quietly down the hall and peeked around the corner to spy on her parents.

Her father was there for one of his yearly visits at the time. He and her mother were in the communal area of the house, locked in each other's arms, swaying to the sound of some soft soulful music that was drifting out of an old record player. One of his arms was around her waist, holding her close while his other hand was holding hers, their fingers entertwined. Her father's hair was down, hanging loose and glorious around his face. Rowan's mother was stroking it, twining the silky strands between her tatttooed fingers as her head rested on his broad chest. All her life the one thing Rowan could never understand was how two people that danced together like that could stand to ever be apart.

An ocean of different life experiences separated them, but in Daryl's arms Rowan felt the distance might be shorter and easier to cross than she originally expected. He couldn't dance but still he was holding her in his arms, willing to try. Rowan moved closer to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her body against him. She moved slower than the music really allowed, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

One of her hands was stroking over the sensitive skin on the back of his neck while the other was resting between his shoulder blades. Her hips were moving in a rhythmic circle and Daryl couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like if she was still moving that way once he had her under him without any clothing blocking his skin from touching hers. He tried to clear his head and assess how much of the intoxication he was feeling was due to that horrible slime Aaron fed him and how much of it was just a result of having Rowan in his arms again.

The flames in the pit were brighter and more colorful than any fire Daryl had seen before. He felt like if he stared at it long enough he might start to see shapes and images dancing there. The music from the drums felt like it was coming from inside him. It wasn't as hard as he thought it would be to sway slowly to the rhythm of it and let it guide his movements as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other and turned Rowan around in a tight little circle. With everything that was going on around him, Rowan's touch was almost enough to drive him into sensory overload. Every part of his body that was in contact with hers felt like it was on fire. Each time she stroked her hand over the soft hairs on the base of his neck it tingled all the way down to his toes.

He didn't just want to kiss her. It was a need as basic as water or air. As he turned her around, his hands moved from her hips so that his arms could wrap around her and crush her body against his. His mouth found hers, lips pressing against lips softly at first before the heat caught between them. Daryl didn't open his eyes or stop kissing her, but he moved his feet where Rowan led him. The change in the level of heat from the fire told him that she was leading him away from the center of activity and into the murky area on the outskirts of the festivites where the darkness could shield them from prying eyes.

Time stopped. Daryl wasn't sure how long he kissed her before Rowan finally broke away to gasp for air. He did the same, resting his hand on a nearby tree to steady himself. His lips felt funny and Daryl raised his other hand to touch them, almost laughing when he realized how puffy they were. He hadn't made out that hard with anyone since he was a teenager groping at some random girl in the backseat of her mother's buick while his brother fucked her cousin in the front seat.

Daryl didn't even realize Rowan had left his side until she was back, handing him something to drink. He was so thirsty he would have even been willing to drink more of that horrible green slop from earlier but was relieved to find the cup Rowan had given him contained only water. He gulped it down and smiled at her. Rowan took the cup back, leaning down to set it against the trunk of the tree where she would be able to find and retrieve it later. She lifted her hand up and pressed her palm flush against Daryl's cheek.

"You hot?," she asked, her voice sweet with her concern for him. Daryl hadn't given it much thought, but now that she mentioned it he supposed he was feeling a little warm. He nodded his head affirmatively. "Let's stay out here a while, away from the fire," Rowan suggested. Daryl nodded again and let Rowan position him so he was leaning back with the strong trunk of the tree behind him. She adjusted her long fringed scarf, wrapping it around her shoulders like a blanket. Rowan stood in front of him, leaning back against his chest and letting him wrap his arms around her.

From this new vantage point Daryl could watch the fun that was being had by the bonfire without being directly involved, which he preferred. Rowan's hair still smelled like the small piney flowers she had tucked behind her ear earlier. After the passionate kissing they had done, thoughts of taking her somewhere to consummate what they had begun were inevitable. But Daryl was still sober enough to know how uninhibited he was feeling and to guess that since Rowan had drunk as much of that lover's potion as he had that she must be feeling the same way. He didn't want to do anything with her that either of them would regret. For the present she seemed content to be held in his arms. So he held her and hoped that come morning she wouldn't have disappeared into thin air like some sort of magical apparition that he had only imagined.

Daryl remembered the hard bark of the tree against his back. The warm feeling of Rowan wrapped up in his arms. He remembered watching the people dancing and tapping his finger along with the beat of the drums. But the rest of the festival celebration was to remain a blur to him for the rest of his life. At some point one of Rowan's friends coaxed her out of the shadows and Daryl watched her dance until he couldn't pick her out of the spinning crowd anymore. He remembered Rowan bringing him more water and he remembered staring at the fire for what felt like a hundred years. In the flames he saw things. Wolves howling at the moon. Two huge dogs that looked like a pair of salt and pepper shakers, one white and one black. That cop Daryl had met earlier in the day embracing him like they were brothers. The strangest thing he saw was a huge crowd of stumbling mindless people following him as he drove his motorcycle down a road he had never been down before. Later Daryl convinced himself that he must have fallen alseep and dreamt it all.

Aside from kissing Rowan, the next thing Daryl distinctly remembered was coming into hard and sudden contact with the ground. There was gravel under him and some of it got in his mouth.

"Aaron!," Rowan cried out, rushing to Daryl's side and stroking his hair back to see if he was hurt, "I can't believe you dropped him!"

"Oh no!," Aaron cried out, kneeling on the other side of the man with a look of grave concern on his face, "I didn't mean to." Eric was far less apologetic. He laughed and collapsed on the path himself, rolling around in the gravel like he was one of Rowan's dogs.

"I couldn't help it Roe," he insisted between fits of laughter, "your new boyfriend weighs a damn ton." He knew he had suddenly dropped like a log and left Aaron unable to support the larger man's heavy body alone, but in his opinion this was all Rowan and Aaron's fault for letting the poor guy have so much absinthe in the first place. That was one drug you had to start slowly with until you were used to the effects.

"Daryl," Rowan cooed, "are you alright?" The sight of Rowan petting a grown man like he was a child or one of her dogs sent Eric off into another fit of laughter. Aaron left Daryl's side and crawled over to Eric where he began tickling the other man mercilessly. Rowan darted over, trying to separate them and make the two rascals stop fooling around. Of course the only thing for them to do at that point was wrestle Rowan to the ground and tickle her until she screamed and squealed with laughter.

The sound of Rowan crying out to be left alone brought Daryl out of his drunken stupor. He awoke to the sight of what appeared to be two men pinning Rowan to the ground and trying to rip her clothes off. She was kicking and hollering at them to stop. Daryl struggled to his feet and took aim.

"Let'er go," he hollered. Luckily his fist missed Aaron's face by a good six inches before he fell back down into the gravel on his rump. Aaron and Eric stopped harassing Rowan, both of them staring at Daryl for a few moments in shock before they exploded in laughter. "Gonna stomp both yer asses into tha ground!," Daryl informed them. That only served to make the men laugh harder as Rowan struggled to her feet and brushed off the dirt and gravel, trying to regain some sort of composure.

"It's okay Daryl," she told him, stroking her hand over his hair again, "We were only playing." His extreme concern for her safety made her feel like her heart was melting inside her chest. Rowan reached down to grab ahold of his hand with the two of hers in an attempt to get Daryl back on his feet. The facepaint that had been so carefully applied earlier in the day was now a smeared rainbow mess on her face. There were leaves in her hair and her arms were streaked with fire soot and dirt. But to Daryl she still looked beautiful, like some sort of wild angel.

Forgetting how angry he had been only a few moments before, he decided he was much more interested in pulling her down into his lap to kiss her than he was in being helped to his feet. Rowan squeaked as she was pulled off balance. But even in his current state of fogginess, Daryl didn't let her fall. He caught her and lowered her down into his lap where he began pawing at her and pressing sloppy kisses onto her face and neck. Rowan was not as affected as Daryl was by the mixture they drank. But she was still high enough that she started kissing him back, forgetting Aaron and Eric were even there until they started whistling and cawing at her like a couple crazy birds.

Rowan wriggled away from Daryl, which wasn't easy since he had a firm grip on her and was rather determined to keep her in his lap. A long piece of the fringe from her scarf tangled between his fingers and ripped off.

"He's been fringed!," Eric announced. Rowan laughed and shook her head at him, thinking to herself that Daryl wasn't the only one that had too much to drink.

"Come on lover boy," Aaron announced, "let's get you to your feet." He grasped the heavy man under his shoulders and lifted up. Rowan grabbed Daryl's hand again and pulled with all the strength she could muster up. Between the two of them they managed to get Daryl into at least a semi-erect position. Before he could fall down again, Aaron and Rowan manuvered him between them, each wrapping one of his strong arms over their shoulders to keep him standing up. It wasn't that much further to the vistor's lodge but Rowan was glad that Daryl was concious enough now to at least hold some of his own weight up. Eric had not been kidding, he was heavier than he looked.

The small trio got inside the lodge by turning sideways through the doorway. Rowan had wrote her name on the door of one of the rooms earlier to reserve it and luckily the large bed inside had remained empty. Once they got close, Rowan let Aaron hold Daryl up for a moment by himself while she pulled back the covers for him. Daryl was tired enough not to put up a fight about being tucked into bed like a child. Rowan took his boots off for him. It wasn't until she tried to loosen his belt for him that he grabbed her arms and tried dragging her into bed with him.

"You can see her in the morning," Aaron promised the man as he pulled Rowan back off the bed and untangled her hair from Daryl's hands to keep it from being pulled out. Aaron shooed her towards the doorway and yanked the covers up over the man himself, smiling to himself over what Daryl's redneck brother would think about him being tucked into bed by another man. And a gay one at that..

"Goodnight Daryl," Rowan whispered from the doorway, not trusting herself to give him a kiss goodnight. The only response she got were the soft snores that were already emanating from the man. She giggled softly and let Aaron take her by the hand to lead her outside.

Even though she knew the way well, Eric and Aaron walked Rowan back to her house. One of her arms was wrapped around Eric's waist and Aaron held her other hand in his, swinging it as they walked. She still wished just a little that she had climbed into bed with Daryl and fallen asleep in his arms but walking along sandwiched in between her friends she still felt happy and loved. Aaron stopped at the end of the small path that led up to her door but Eric kept his arm around her and walked along the garden lined path all the way to her door. He took his arm from around her shoulders and wrapped it around her waist instead, pulling her against him. Casual affection was not uncommon between friends as close as they were so Rowan wan't surprised when he kissed her. What surprised her was how long his lips lingered, turning the kiss from friendly to something else.

"You know you're welcome to come home with us if you don't want to be alone," Eric told her, his voice husky and barely above a whisper. Even in the dark Rowan knew his face was turning as red as his hair. It was not the first time Eric had made such an offer, though usually he diguised his advances with more jest. The fact that he was attracted to her despite his sexual orientation had not escaped Rowan's attention. If it wasn't for the handsome man sleeping a few buildings away, she might have been even more tempted than she was to go with him. Her nerve endings were still tingling from what she drank and the thought of going home alone to an empty bed was not an appealing one.

Rowan kissed Eric one more time before pulling back and pressing her forehead against his. "Another night," she finally answered. Eric pulled her against him but this time his hug felt friendly again, unlike the last embrace. He kissed her cheek before he pulled away, holding onto her hand as long as he could before distance separated them. Rowan watched him walk back to Aaron. The two men kissed and waved goodnight to her before they disappeared from sight.

Rowan smiled to herself as she headed inside. She stopped to tell her mother that she was home safe but the woman's door was locked. This was unusual and could only mean one thing. Her mother had company. Company of the sexual variety. Rowan giggled, covering her hand with her mouth to muffle the noise. She was willing to bet anything that her parents were inside her mother's room together, which always made Rowan especially happy. Her mother would knock her silly for even thinking it but Rowan always hoped when they were together that her mother might get pregnant again. She would like a little brother or a sister. It would be like having a baby without having to actually have one.

With thoughts of babies and love on her mind, Rowan pushed her big dog off her side of the bed and laid down. She was too tired to change her clothes and even if she hadn't been she wanted to fall alseep to the smell of Daryl that was lingering in the fabric. Tank grunted one of his low tone dog grunts and scooted back across the bed so he was closer to her. Rowan knew she would wake up with his scratchy dog paws in her face but she didn't have the heart to shove him away again. The sound of his slow even breathing had almost lulled her all the way to sleep when Ayla appeared in her doorway.

"Roe?," the other girl called out quietly, "are you awake in there." Rowan might have teased the other girl and said she was awake now, but the shaky tone in Ayla's voice alarmed her.

"I'm awake," Rowan whispered back.

"Can I sleep with you?," Ayla asked. Rowan was sure of what she had only suspected before. Ayla's voice was hoarse and shaky. She had been crying.

"Of course," Rowan told the other girl. She elbowed Tank back toward the other side of the bed and scooted along behind him, holding up the covers so her friend could climb in next to her. Ayla's weight barely even shifted the bed as she crawled in and wrapped her arms around Rowan. The moment her friend was holding her a fresh spout of tears spilled out of the girl.

"What happened?," Rowan asked, feeling concern and fear well up inside her. Rowan was a sympathetic cryer and soon she felt her own tears starting to fall and mix in with Ayla's. Ayla was crying too hard to answer her question so Rowan asked another one that she knew the girl could answer with a nod or shake of her head.

"Did he hurt you?," she asked. Rowan didn't like to think the worst of people, but something about Daryl's brother had rubbed her the wrong way right from the moment she met him. The aura around the man was brown with arrogance. Ayla should have been able to see that. He had no respect for other people's feelings. Rowan knew that, but she still didn't think the man was mean enough to really hurt her friend or she wouldn't have left them alone together.

Ayla shook her head. Rowan held her closer and breathed a sigh of relief. "Calm down and breathe," Rowan coaxed, "Picture a circle of white light around you. Nothing can hurt you. You're perfect in every way." Rowan stroked Ayla's hair and her back as she repeated the phrases softly again and again until Ayla's tears subsided.

"Now tell me what happened," Rowan instructed. Ayla rolled over and Rowan cuddled in behind her like they were two spoons lying on edge. She held her young friend close and waited for her to speak, which she did.

"We... We...," Ayla started, her voice still shaky. "We made love," she said, finally spitting out the words. Making love didn't seem like the right words to describe what she and Merle had done but she supposed it got her point across well enough.

"Daryl's brother?," Rowan asked, not wanting to assume. Ayla nodded her head. She felt like if she said Merle's name it might make her start crying all over again.

"You didn't want to?," Rowan asked. Rowan lived in a sheltered community but that didn't mean she didn't know was rape was. Her grandmother had been raped. That's how the woman got pregnant with Rowan's mother. Her parents tried to force her to marry the man that had assaulted her. That was why she ran away from home. The people that founded Rowan's community found her grandmother starving and pregnant, begging for change at a train station. She came to sleep the night with them at what was then just a small farmhouse surrounded by woods. She never left. Rowan's grandmother had told her the story many times. It was meant to be a warning about not trusting people, especially men, from outside the community.

"No," Ayla said, struggling for the words to explain how she felt, "I liked that part. It was after that he was mean to me."

"Mean how?," Rowan asked. She felt some relief that at least her friend hadn't been violated but she still wanted to know what happened. Next time she saw that cocky jerk, Rowan was going to give him a piece of her mind for making her friend cry.

"He didn't hold me at all after and all he said to me was that he had fun," Ayla said, new tears welling up in her eyes, "then he left me there alone." Rowan sighed. Not that what the man had done wasn't rude, but the way Ayla was carrying on she had been expecting to hear a lot worse. "I thought he really liked me," Ayla added before she turned and tried to muffle her sobs into Rowan's pillow.

Rowan stroked Ayla's hair, pulling little pieces of hay out that had become tangled up in her long locks and flicking them away onto the floor of her room. She rubbed Ayla's back and let the girl cry herself out. While Rowan did agree that taking off immediately after sex was rather rude and sounded more like the behavior of a wild animal than something a grown man would do, she thought Ayla's expectations of the man had been more than a little unrealistic. He was from outside their community. He didn't know their customs. Maybe acting like that was common place in the outside world, Rowan really had no idea.

Aside from Daryl, the only men Rowan had dated from outside the community were men from her father's indian reservation and they had all made it very clear from the moment they met her that they were looking for marriage. Rowan's father was the chief of his tribe, like his father before him and before him, dating back as many generations as anyone could remember. She was her father's only child. He had no sons. This made her prime marriage material despite the fact that her mother was white. To her father's great annoyance, Rowan treated the whole situation like one big silly joke. She had no intention of allowing herself to be courted or married off to someone who only wanted to gain some sort of strange native american social standing. She was not a prize to be won.

"Maybe he really did just have fun," Rowan suggested kindly once Ayla finished her second round of tears. She didn't say what she really thought for fear of upsetting her friend more. That Ayla was lovely and amazing. And that if Merle couldn't see that then he didn't deserve her. "I'm sure he didn't mean to upset you," Rowan added, "why don't you sleep on it and talk to him tomorrow."

"Do you think he likes me?," Ayla asked, reaching for one of the hankies that Rowan kept near her bed to wipe up her nose. Rowan pulled Ayla by the shoulder, rolling the girl onto her back so she could look her in the face in the dim light of the room. Rowan kissed each of Ayla's soft round cheeks one after the other.

"I think any man would be crazy not to like you," Rowan told her. And that was the honest truth.


	14. Chapter 14

Big Yellow Taxi

Chapter 14

The birds that had not yet flown further south for the winter were chirping outside the window. Daryl knew from the sounds of them that it was only about mid morning. The night before was a blur and he woke feeling surprised that he didn't feel worse. He was thirsty and his mouth felt dry but other than that he was much less hungover than he normally was when he woke up after a night of drinking and partying.

The pillow under Daryl's head was soft and fresh smelling. When he lifted the blankets he had been covered up with, the smell of rosemary wafted out. After some slight investigation he found that the stick that was poking his lower back was the woody sprig of the plant that Rowan had slipped into his back pocket the night before. Most of the tiny blue flowers had been crushed and broken from the stem. The one that remained fluttered down onto his chest as Daryl lifted the herb to his face to smell it. He plucked the flower from the folds of the blanket and rubbed it between his fingers to release the tiny bit of fragrance that still lingered in the fragile petals.

A low moan and a slight shift of the bed jolted Daryl the rest of the way into conciousness. He used his hands to push himself into a sitting position. Enough light was filtering in through the closed curtians for Daryl to see that the other side of the bed was occupied. He pulled the top of the blankets down hopefully despite the fact that the person under the blankets was far too large to be the woman Daryl was wishing to find hidden there.

Daryl's disappointment in waking up next to his brother instead of Rowan was tempered by the knowledge that at least Merle had somehow managed to find his way to the room they had been given to sleep in. And if Merle had been sleeping in bed with Daryl all night that meant there was less of a chance that he had been out gettting himself into trouble. A rough snorting snore from the man was enough to get Daryl moving. It was always hard to predict Merle's moods. But Daryl knew there was a chance Merle would want to leave this place as soon as he woke up. And Daryl wasn't anywhere close to ready to go. He quickly decided that avoiding his brother would be far easier than having a confrontation with the man. Merle couldn't insist that Daryl leave and come home with him if he couldn't find him.

Shifting his body slowly and silently, Daryl rose from the bed. Grabbing his shoes in his hands he crept from the room and eased the door shut behind him. On the outside of the door hung a small chalkboard with a small piece of white chalk dangling from it on a string. There was a note written on the board in flowing even script. The words didn't address him by name. But from the content Daryl knew the note was for him.

 _You looked peaceful._

 _Come find me when you wake up._

 _-Rowan-_

A deep burgandy sunflower was pinned behind the board, stuck between it and the wooden door. And the 'o' in Rowan's name had been drawn to look like a little flower as well. The note made Daryl smile despite himself. While he wasn't sure if it technically qualified as a love note it was the first note from a girl he had ever recieved. He would have liked to leave Rowan's sweet words there to look at later. But the idea of Merle finding them had Daryl lifting his hand to smear the words before he could think twice about it. He wiped his chalky hand off on his jeans before reaching up to grab the flower that Rowan had left for him. He had never gotten a flower from girl either and was left wondering if being happy about it made him somehow less manly.

Daryl shrugged and headed down the hall towards the sound of voices. He hoped to find Rowan in the common room of the guest house but the room was full of strangers aside from one man.

"Good morning," Eric called over, giving Daryl a smile. The slender man gestured to the flower in Daryl's hand, asking in a teasing tone if it was for him. When Daryl didn't laugh at his joke Eric pointed towards a vase of the flowers and explained that he and Rowan had picked them together that morning. That earned him a small half smile from the man.

"You know where she's at?," Daryl asked. He moved across the room and placed his flower in the vase with the rest. This left both his hands free to fill a plate and mug with the food and drink that was set out on a folding table. Eric shook his head. Rowan had helped him get breakfast ready for the people staying in the guest house. But then she had scampered off to do whatever Rowan business she had planned for the day. Rowan could usually be found near or in the enclosure where she kept her dogs or working in one of the large vegetable gardens. But since her father was visiting it was possible she had gone somewhere with him. And it was festival week. Which meant most people were thrown off from their normal day to day activites.

"I would check at the woman's small living house first," Eric suggested, "her mom might know where she is." Daryl mumbled his thanks through an impossibly large mouthful of bread and raspberry jam, little crumbs flying out from between his lips and sprinkling down the front of his black shirt. Eric scratched at the ginger colored stubble on his face as he tried to hide a smile. Rowan had some of the worst table manners of anyone he knew. She believed that eating in a way that most people considered proper took all the joy out the act itself. Eric wasn't about to air his opinion on the matter to Daryl, but he found it more than just a little adorable that Rowan had managed to find what must be the one man on earth that had worse manners than her.

The comical image that came to mind as Eric watched Daryl grab another muffin from the table and shove nearly the entire thing into his mouth at once was of him and Rowan raising an entire litter of messy little children that would jump down from the table and wipe their dirty faces off on the curtains like Eric's little sister used to get in trouble for doing when she was toddler. Eric had been wary of Daryl at first. He hated to admit that he had judged someone by their outward appearance alone but the man did look rough and maybe even a little scary. Rowan was kind and gentle and Eric had been concerned that she was attracted to someone that looked like he might force himself on her the first chance he got. But after spending some time with Daryl, Eric realized that he had misjudged the man. Daryl wasn't sexually aggressive. If anything he seemed almost to be the opposite of that, he was quiet and reserved. Almost shy. And his interest in Rowan appeared to be genuine.

"Go out the front of this building and follow the gravel path down past the barns," Eric said. His directions weren't exact but they would lead Daryl back to the festival site. From there Eric hoped he could orient himself and find his way back to Rowan's house. If not, there would be people at the festival site that could direct him.

With the gravel crunching under his feet, Daryl brushed the crumbs off the front of his shirt. He took another long sip of what had to be the best coffee he had drunk in as long as he could remember. Most of the people that had been gathering the guest house looked like they were drinking hot tea so Daryl had not felt bad at all when he helped himself to an extra large steaming cup of the hot coffee with a few cubes of brown sugar mixed in. The prospect of finding Rowan's mother and asking the woman where her daughter was had him feeling a little anxious. He had never really met a girl's parents before and he was worried about what the woman might think of him. As the house he knew Rowan lived in loomed up in front of him Daryl squared up his shoulders, reminding himself that Rowan had left him a note telling him to come find her. He was only doing what she had asked.

Daryl tried the back path into the building first. But no one was there and he felt uncomfortable just barging into the place. So he headed around to the front. At first glance Daryl didn't see anyone there either. But before he could think up what his next course of action was going to be a soft feminine giggle drifted up from the other side of the porch railing. Sitting in the early morning shade that the overhang of the porch roof provided Daryl found the woman he was looking for.

Rowan's mother was lying in a wooden lounge chair, but she wasn't alone. She was leaning back against a tall man with long black hair. They were covered in a indian blanket so Daryl couldn't see much of them. But it was obvious from what he could see that neither of them was wearing much in the way of clothing under the blanket. The tops of Rowan's mother's freckled shoulders were bare and she was leaning back against the man's naked chest. The man's head was down and he was kissing up her neck, which Daryl guessed was the reason for the giggling he had heard. Daryl shuffled his feet awkwardly on the rickety porch steps. When that didn't work he coughed loudly into his hand.

"Oh!," Rowan's mother exclaimed with another giggle. She elbowed the man that was pawing her in an effort to get him to straighten up and stop distracting her. Then she yanked the blanket up to make sure her breasts were all the way covered. The man slipped and arm under the blankets and around her waist, shifting her so she was sitting up straighter and pulling her closer to him. Daryl was certain he had not met the man before but there was something familiar about him. Unlike Rowan, who only had her high cheekbones to imply that she might be of american indian descent, this man was obviously full blooded native american. He had a full head of thick black hair and a complexion that looked more tan that it probably was up against Rowan's mother's much paler complexion.

"Háu and good morning," the man said, offering Daryl up a sly looking grin. His accent sounded just like Rowan's but thicker. It confirmed what Daryl had already suspected before. Not only was Daryl going to have to interact with Rowan's mother, he was going to have to meet her father as well.

As Daryl observed Rowan's father, it became obvious that the man was giving him a very thorough once over in return. The fact that he wasn't being subtle about it actually made Daryl feel less anxious. He preferred dealing with people that were honest and direct. When Daryl stood up straighter under the man's careful obseration the man smiled at him.

"Looking for Hekaza?," the man asked. Before Daryl could answer Rowan's mother interjected.

"He means Rowan," she explained, "Hekaza is her tribe name." Throwing a slightly dirty look at the man was was holding her in his arms she added, "No one here calls her that." Daryl could tell by the tone of the woman's voice that Rowan having a tribe name seemed to be a point of contention between the couple. But he was still too curious not to ask for more information.

"What does it mean?," he asked, directing his question towards Rowan's father. The man smiled again, his face softening like he was thinking about a pleasant memory.

"It means little deer," he said. Daryl smiled, immediately understanding that Rowan's freckles had been what earned her that particular title. He hadn't made the comparision in his mind before but her freckles did remind him of the spots that formed on the backs of baby deer before their adult coats came in.

"I'm Daryl," Daryl announced, "but my name don't mean shit." He wasn't sure why he had felt the urge to introduce himself in such a way but his joke went over better than he expected. Rowan's father exploded with laughter, joslting her mother around and then tickling at the woman to make her laugh along with him. Once he had his laughter under control Rowan's father introduced himself. His name was strange and one that Daryl was sure there was no way he would be able to pronounce correctly. It started with an M and had a weird throaty double g sound in the middle of it.

"You can call me Grey Wolf," the man conceeded with another laugh, "that's easier for the wendigo around here to pronounce." Daryl wasn't totally sure what the unfamiliar word meant. But the context and Rowan's mother's reaction to it led Daryl to believe that it was likely a derogatory word for white folk like himself. Before she could voice her objections, Grey Wolf slipped his hands out from under the blanket and held them up in mock defeat.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he said as he very obviously struggled to keep a straight face, "Calm down Lola it was just a joke." His hands lowered and he wrapped his long arms around the woman's waist, holding her close in case she was thinking about stomping off into her room and slamming the door in his face. Seeing that Daryl was sipping his coffee and becoming increasingly uncomfortable with being a witness to their minor domestic squabble Rowan's father lifted one hand and pointed back behind him.

"Roe took her dogs down to the big creek. Follow the road down past the peach trees." He smiled and added, "If you get lost just listen for barking."

Grey Wolf held Lola close to him as he watched Daryl walk off down the path. He hadn't made up his mind completely about Rowan's newest love interest but he was leaning towards liking the man. Age was hard to determine but if he had to guess he would say Daryl had at least ten years on his daughter. This wasn't necessarily a bad thing. But since Grey Wolf himself had only been just over the age of fifteen when Rowan was born, the thought of her dating a man that was nearly the same age as him felt strange. He still liked to think of his daughter as a girl and the sad truth was she had been a grown woman for many years now. But Daryl's overall manliness more than made up for his age. Unlike the artists and poets Rowan had taken a liking to before, this man appeared as though he might actually work for a living. It would be nice to have a son in law that didn't refuse to bait his own fishing hook or scream like a girl when he saw a spider in the house.

A man from his reservation would still be what he preferred for his daughter to settle down with. But Grey Wolf reminded himself that anyone was better than the two gay men that seemed to have their sights set on using his daughter as some sort of a brood mare. Various forms of polygamy were considered acceptable in this community and Rowan's father had been concerned for some time now that Rowan might never find herself a proper husband. She had refrained from mentioning it around him since the last time because of his strong objections to the idea, but Grey Wolf knew that the homosexual couple his daughter was close with had all but made a formal offer for her to do what they referred to as sharing their union. This meant she would live with them and most likely sleep with them and the three of them would raise whatever children she had together. While Grey Wolf didn't have any particular objections to homosexuality in general, he didn't like the idea of his only daughter playing wife to two gay men no matter how nice they were.

Rowan had assured her father that she wasn't ready for babies yet. But she had also warned him that if she didn't find a man she loved by the time she was ready for babies that she might consider it. Grey Wolf had voiced his objections but he knew better than to throw a fit. Rowan was stubborn as a damn buffalo and had a bad habit of doing things people told her not to just to prove that she could.

"I can't believe you told that man to go down there," Lola said, trying now to suppress her own smile. She turned in his arms so she could gauge his facial expressions. "You know Rowan swims naked?" Grey Wolf shrugged.

"Guess he's in for a show then," he teased. As far as her father was concerned, if Rowan didn't want people seeing her naked then she ought to start wearing one of the five different bathing suits he had bought for her. And the idea of Daryl happening upon Rowan when she was bathing in the creek brought back fond memories of the time he had seen her mother doing the same thing. In that moment he had fallen in love with Lola in a way that he had never been able to replicate with any other woman no matter how intelligent or beautiful or talented they might be. Maybe the same thing would happen for his daughter.

"You're horrible," Lola teased, tilting her head back to press a kiss to his lips. The sun had shifted since the couple had picked their spot in the shade and little beams of light were now shining under the roof of the porch, setting her copper hair on fire. Lifting the crystal that hung from her neck, Grey Wolf rubbed his thumb over the well worn surface of the stone.

"Tell me my fortune...," he whispered, his voice low and serious. The first time he saw Lola he had asked her if she was a fairy or a witch. She laughed and told him she was both. Then he had asked her if she could tell him his fortune. The question had taken on a meaning of it's own over the years, becoming something more personal and intimate than simply saying I love you. Lola didn't answer. Instead she twisted in his arms and kissed him more deeply than she had before.


	15. Chapter 15

Big Yellow Taxi

Chapter 15

Rowan woke up to the sound of Tank snoring next to her. Her bed was warm and comfortable. She thought about rolling over and cuddling up with the bog dog, but a snort followed by one of his more extreme smelling dog farts sent her flying and giggling out of her bed. That one smelled like it might have singed the sheets. Rowan laughed as she kicked around the clothing on her floor, searching for something reasonably clean to wear. She stopped to yawn and stretch out her shoulders.

Finding that there wasn't much on her floor that wasn't in bad need of a wash or covered in dog hair, Rowan pulled her closet open and peeked inside. Her mother had washed and hung her favorite comfy black dress up for her inside. Rowan smiled as she grabbed for the garment. She pulled the large shirt she had slept in over her head and dropped it on the floor, then pulled the dress on.

Next she opened the drawer she kept her underclothes in. Poking through the pairs of faded and well worn cotton panties, she found what she was looking for. Rowan didn't care much for fancy lingerie but she had one pair of lacy black underpants that didn't leave much to the imagination. They made her feel sexy and confident. She saved them for special occasions. Rowan kept the panties in her hands as she sifted through the collection of small colorful glass jars on top of her dresser. Finding the one she was searching for, Rowan dabbed a bit of sandalwood oil onto the tip of her finger and rubbed it into the crotch of her underwear. After she pulled them on, she rubbed a bit more of the oil behind each ear. One more dab went between her breasts before she was done. Since she felt it had brought her luck the day before, Rowan grabbed her grandmother's long fringed scarf and tossed it around her shoulders. She held the end of it to her face and closed her eyes as she breathed in the smell of the campfire from the night before.

Heading down the hall, Rowan peeked in on Ayla first. The young woman was asleep in her own bed. Rowan tiptoed in and pulled the covers up over the girl's shoulders, leaning down to place a soft kiss on the top of her blonde head. They had fallen asleep together but Rowan guessed that sometime during the night Tank had climbed into bed and crowded the other woman out.

Rowan's next stop was her mother's room. She turned the knob and eased the door open just a crack. Since her mother's door was closed, Rowan knew the woman had an overnight guest. She knew she really shouldn't pry, but Rowan was too curious not to check and see if her father was indeed the man her mother had spent the night with. Her mother slept soundly but the slight noise of the door had woken the man who's chest she was resting her head on. Rowan's father smiled and held his hand up to motion her into the room.

Rowan crept silently around the bed, grasping the man's hand in hers. He whispered to her in Sioux, telling her good morning and that he had missed her. She leaned down and kissed him on the smooth skin of his cheek.

"You smell good," he whispered, switching over to english. Rowan smiled at the compliment. Her father had always been partial to the smell of sandalwood. Her mother wore it whenever he was coming for a visit. For that reason Rowan always associated the smell with romance and lovemaking.

"I missed you too," Rowan whispered, "Go back to sleep. I'll come back later and visit with you." Her father smiled, giving her slender hand one last squeeze before he adjusted his body and sunk deeper under the covers, pulling her mother's body closer to his. Rowan's hand rested on the doorframe as she paused in the doorway, casting one more lingering glance at the couple. Seeing them together made her feel indescribably happy. All her best memories of childhood were of times when the three of them were together.

Anyone who invited a guest to stay the night in the guest house was expected to help out with the meals. Rowan often helped out anyway, but she was especially excited that she actually had an overnight guest of her own to provide for. It was so early that most if not all the people in the guest house would still be asleep. Rowan briefly considered heading over to the guest house and just climbing directly into bed with Daryl. The morning air was cool against her bare legs and the thought of curling up in a warm bed with a beautiful man was such a pleasant thought that she stopped walking and sighed out loud. She had felt the warmth radiating from his body when he held her in his arms the night before. Sleeping in bed with him would be like sleeping with her own electric blanket.

Rowan sighed again, sadly this time, and forced herself to head down towards the west garden instead. She hadn't even made love to that man yet. So sneaking into his bed uninvited was probably a bad idea. The last thing she wanted to do was scare him off or make him think she was some kind of creep. And there was also a possibility that his brother had found his way back to the room they were given to share. That had the potential to get awkward in a hurry. And while she couldn't wait to get closer to Daryl, Rowan had no desire to be in his brother's personal space. She wasn't happy about the way that man had treated her friend. Ayla was young and naive in the ways of love. Rowan was realistic. She didn't expect every man her friend slept with to immediately have the burning desire to marry her, but Ayla still deserved to be treated with some measure of kindness and respect. Everyone deserved that.

"Where's Aaron?," Rowan asked Eric as soon as she spotted him.

"He's sleeping in," Eric told her as he leaned in for a hug, "I got up early so I could take him breakfast in bed." Rowan grabbed a picking basket. She and Eric chatted back and forth, switching subjects from the party to breakfast to her father being in town for a visit. Fall was Rowan's favorite time of year. There was so much to pick from in the garden. The trees were starting to turn beautiful colors as they readied themselves for winter. Squirrels and chipmunks scurried around, hiding nuts and bits of food so that they wouldn't go hungry when the air got cooler.

Rowan was looking forward to taking long walks in the woods. She usually went alone or with her dogs, using the time to clear her mind and center herself. But Rowan let herself entertain the idea of how nice it might be to have someone to take a walk with that would want to enjoy the quiet of the woods with her. Daryl said he liked to hunt, so she hoped that maybe that meant he enjoyed just being outdoors. He had seemed interested in her father's hunting cabin. A plan was slowly starting to form in her mind. She would offer to take him out to see the cabin. This would leave them alone together in the woods. And she did just happen to be wearing a very skimpy pair of black panties and no bra.

"Earth to Rowan," Eric sung out. He had asked her the same question now three times in a row. She was running her fingers over the leaves of a tomato plant with the dreamiest look on her face, like she was forgotten he was even there.

"Huh?," Rowan asked.

"I said do you think it would be alright if we cut down a few of the sunflowers," Eric said with a big smile on his face. In his opinon, Rowan was always gorgeous. But with that sweet dreamy look she had on her face she was almost otherworldly. He wouldn't mind being the man that she was thinking about when she looked like that. Eric had never been attracted to a woman before. He was more than well aware that his crush on Rowan bordered on adolescent. It was the sort of crush a little boy might have on his teacher. Aaron liked to tease him about it just to see his pale cheeks flush with color.

"There's so many," Rowan assured him, "I'm sure it's alright if we take just a few flowers. That will leave plenty of them left to seed." While sunflowers were pretty to look at, they actually grew them for the seeds, which could be roasted and eaten or hot pressed to release their oils. Picking them to make bouquets was frowned upon. However, it was the end of the season and a festival and Rowan didn't think anyone would get too worked up over her and Eric making the guest house look pretty.

"I wish they smelled as pretty as they looked," Rowan commented, pulling the sunflower she had picked away from her nose and frowning at it. The handle of her picking basket was slung over her arm, filled with the ingredients she planned on using to make a breakfast hash. She had found a wonderfully ripe acorn squash, dug up some purple potatoes and yellow amarillo carrots. For a little more flavor she grabbed a few of the last sweet peppers of the season and snipped the flowering tops off a few lemon basil plants. But the best find of all was the sunflower in her other hand.

They grew many different types of sunflowers. Rowan's favorites were the red toned blooms. And the one she had found was such a lovely color that she almost felt bad picking it. It was such a deep dark shade of red that the petals were only slightly lighter in tone than the black center of the flower. Rowan had a small bundle of other pretty flowers in her basket on top of the vegetables she had picked. But the one in her hand she had picked special. For Daryl. She wasn't sure if she was going to give it to him. Rowan didn't know if such a masculine man would like getting a flower as a present. But she figured she could at least show it to him. He liked the rosemary she had picked the night before and Rowan was certain he would appreciate the unique color of the flower.

More people joined them in the kitchen, bringing with them the ingredients to cook up whatever they had decided to make as their breakfast contribution. Rowan took so many tastes and tiny bites of the things that were being made that by the time she got her hash fried up she wasn't even hungry for it anymore. Eric set a plate of it aside to take to Aaron and the rest was dumped into a casserole dish and covered up so it could be carried over to the guest house. By the time they were done cooking, Rowan's large black dog had finally decided to drag himself out of bed and come looking for her. Tank was given a bowl of fried potatoes and a few scrambled eggs before the small group of breakfast chefs packed up the food they had made and set off to carry it over to the guest house.

Rowan had to force herself to keep pace with the rest of the group. She was so eager to see Daryl again that she wanted to rush ahead and run there. When they finally got inside the building, Rowan handed the food she was carrying off to Eric and hurried towards the back hallway. Her stomach felt like it had a whole flock of butterflies flapping around in it before her hand even touched the doorknob to the room he was sleeping in. While Rowan eased the door open to find Daryl still snoring in bed she almost woke him laughing at herself.

On the tiptoes of her decorative sandals, Rowan crept into the room. She peered down at the man. Just looking at him again made her feel warm inside. Daring him to wake up and find her staring at him, Rowan reached out and gently brushed a piece of hair from his forehead. She pulled her hand away and lifted it to her mouth, the tip of one finger gently tracing the outline of her lips as she thought about how good it had felt when he was kissing her.

"Just wake him up already," Eric hissed from the doorway. He was holding onto Tank's collar to keep the large dog from charging into the room. Tank hated being held away from Rowan more than he hated anything else in the whole world. The large dog let out a high pitched whine, looking dangerously close to shaking free of Eric's hold like the slender man was no more than a rag doll. Rowan rushed from the room and hurried to close the door before Tank really started barking and woke the entire house up. "You're really not going to wake him up?," Eric teased.

"He looked tired," Rowan whispered back. She tucked the flower she had brought for Daryl behind the small chalkboard on his door. Then she lifted up the small piece of chalk that was dangling from the board on a string and left a note. "Do you think that sounds dumb?," Rowan asked as she reread the note she left.

"Don't wipe it off," Eric said, catching her wrist with his before she could smear away the cute little note she left. "If he asks when he gets up where do you want me to tell him you are?," he asked. An adorably wicked grin broke out across Rowan's face.

"Don't tell him anything," Rowan said, unable to hide her smirk. When Eric raised his eyebrows at her she added, "He did say he likes to hunt." With that Rowan was off. She ran down the hallway towards the backdoor with her long hair bouncing and her dog thundering behind her. Eric smiled after the woman until she was gone. Then he headed back down to the common room to get the coffee and tea brewing.


	16. Chapter 16

Big Yellow Taxi

Chapter 16

Once Rowan was outside of the guest house she really started running. Her arms pumped in time with her feet as her leather sandals pounded against the gravel drive. She loved to run with her dog. Most of the time she ran for fun. But at the present moment the exercise was helping to burn off some of the nervous energy she was feeling. She ended up down by the goat enclosure to check on the last of her puppies. Lily was outside of the fences, barking up a tree after a squirrel. When the silly dog saw Rowan she darted back inside the enclosure and sat down, her long tail wagging so hard that her butt was twitching from side to side. She let out a little puppy yip as if to say, I've been in here waiting for you this whole time.

Rowan hopped the fence, holding her dress up so the hem wouldn't get snagged on the wooden slats. Lily came galloping over, little chunks of soft dirt and grass flying out behind her. Rowan was eager to give the puppy some of her attention. Until Lily got close enough for Rowan to smell her. Rowan had no idea what the large brown puppy had managed to get into, but she reeked. The smell emanating from the animal could only be described as a cross between raw sewage and rotting meat. It was possible the dog had found these items and gone for a roll in both, though it was most likely she had escaped her pen and gotten into the compost bins again.

Rowan held a knee up, using her body defensively to try and keep herself from being covered in dog stink.

"Oh Lily," she moaned, "You need a bath bad!" At the sound of her name, Lily's excitment grew. Hoping for a treat she sat down on her haunches and did the only trick she had learned with any sucess. She barked. Rowan silently cursed herself for teaching the dog to speak. Tank knew how. But he only barked to alert Rowan of possible danger or if he needed to be let outside to use the bathroom. Lily barked all the time. And she had a habit of doing it at the worst possible moments. Like in the middle of the night or when Rowan had the audacity to try and take a shower without allowing every single dog she owned to join her in the bathroom.

"No bark!," Rowan scolded the dog. At the sound of the word BARK Lily let out another loud high pitched yip followed by a puppy howl. Rowan shook her head and laughed at the silly dog. Lily's rope leash was hanging over a nearby section of fence. Rowan grabbed it and tied it to her collar. She took the dog into the barn with her and grabbed the basket of dog shampoo and toys she kept on a shelf in the tack room. Tank was following along behind them and his tail started wagging when he saw Rowan with the basket.

Lily dragged Rowan most of the way down to the lake, making the woman realize that a small piece of rope tied to the large puppy's collar was no longer enough to control the dog. She had a large no pull harness she had used for Tank when he was puppy hidden away somewhere in her mess of a room and she reminded herself that she was going to have to dig through her things later to find it.

Not wanting to get her dress or scarf wet, Rowan pulled them off and hung the items over a branch on a nearby tree. She wiggled her underwear off and set them on top of the dress. The morning air was cool against her bare skin and she rubbed at the gooseflesh that was prickling up on the skin of her arms. Her hair was hanging loose down her back so she pulled of one of the stretchy braceletes on her wrist and used it to tie her long hair up into a sloppy bun on top of her head.

The water was even colder than the air around her. Rowan stuck the toes of one foot in and quickly yanked them back out, a shiver running up her spine. The only way to get into this cold water was one tiny inch at a time. Rowan heard the thundering of large puppy paws behind her but not in time to save herself from being doused by a huge splash of ice cold water that flung up as Lily throttled herself into the creek only a few inches away.

Rowan shrieked as the shock of the cold water hit her. Her dogs ignored her cry of distress as they paddled around in the water, Tank growling as Lily tried to get close to him and accidentally dunked his large black head under the water. She was already soaked and freezing cold so Rowan gave up on easing herself into the creek and jumped in. Her head dunked partway under, wetting her face and the back of her hair. The water was shallow enough for her to stand in and have her head and shoulders above the water line. She stood up and splashed water at the dogs, trying to pay Lily back for the soaking she had just dished out.

Rowan threw the ball enough times for Lily that the large puppy was finally worn out enough to stand still and let Rowan scrub her clean. Tank wasn't as dirty, but Rowan scrubbed him up just the same. Both dogs dove back into the creek water to rinse off the offensive soapy suds. The sun high enough in the sky that it was peeking over the trees. Both dogs exited the creek, throwing droplets everywhere as they shook the water from their large bodies. Tank chose a soft grassy spot in the sun for a nap and Lily followed his example and cuddled down next to him. He let out a low growl each time she wriggled closer to him but it seemed he wasn't upset enough about her presence to actualyl get up and move away from her.

There was a nice flat rock that hung out over the creek a few yards away. Rowan grabbed her scarf before she picked her barefoot way carefully through the small rocks and twigs. She laid the scarf over the smooth surface of the rock before she sat down to warm herself in the sun. A bird in a tree nearby whistled out a morning song. Rowan pursed her lips and imitated the noise in an attempt to get the bird to exchange a song with her. The small bird bobbed it's head, hopping around on the branch. Rowan repeated the whistle but instead of answering her back the small bird spread it's wings and flapped away.

"Didn't want to talk to you anyway," Rowan called after the little bird with a giggle. Most of the small woodland animals that hung around the main living area of her comunity had been treated so kindly by people that they were nearly tame. If she sat still enough Rowan could get the squirrels and small chipmunks to take food right out of her hand. But the animals that lived in the more wooded areas were not as trusting. Rowan pulled her hair down. She picked up a small forked stick and began to use it to try and comb some of the tangles out of her long locks. She tried her best not to be a vain person but her long thick raven hair was the one physical feature that she loved about herself. Not matter how much troublesome and tangled it got she could never convince herself to cut it off. When she went to visit her father on the reservation the little girls there loved to brush it and braid it for her.

With her naked skin warmed by the sun, Rowan let herself relax and unwind from the tight shivering ball she had wrapped herself into. She stretched out her legs and scooted forward to dip her toes in the cool water. The water was still enough that she could see her rippled reflection in the surface. Rowan smiled and started to sing a song to herself. She didn't have much of a singing voice but the tune of the song was simple. It was a tune her father sometimes sung to her mother. Rowan never knew if it was actually an old folk song or something he just made up himself. And he would never say. Her father was funny that way.

 _Have you ever seen the seagulls a-flying up to heaven_

 _Or the crimson sails on Galway Bay the fishermen unfurl_

 _Oh, the earth is filled with beauty and its gathered all together_

 _In the form and face and dainty grace of a pretty Irish girl_

 _Oh, she is my dear, my darling one_

 _Her eyes so sparkling full of fun_

 _No other, no other can match the likes of her_

 _Oh, she is my dear, my darling one_

 _My smiling and beguilling one_

 _I love the ground she walks upon_

 _My darling Irish girl..._

At the end of her song, Rowan leaned forward to look at her reflection. But as she gazed down she saw that she was no longer alone. Another image was reflected back in the water. Someone was standing behind her. Rowan turned, her head tilting up and back. She was so happy to see the man that she completely forgot her nakedness or that she had been singing, something she usually wouldn't do unless she was completely alone.

"Good morning Daryl," she said, a huge grin spreading across her face as she saw the blush rising up to color his cheeks.

TWD

Daryl followed the path that led away from Rowan's house. At first he let the path lead him, keeping to the direction that her father had pointed him in. But after a few minutes he realized he no longer had to look where he was going. His instincts took over. The sensation wasn't totally unfamiliar. It happened to him often when he was hunting. He didn't always have to rely on the tracks of the animal to guide him. Sometimes he just knew seemed to know where the animal he was tracking had gone. He had never had it happen when he was looking for a woman. But he had also never gone seraching for one before.

The smell and feel of the air around him changed and Daryl knew he was getting closer to the water. A few more steps and he could hear the quiet rush and bubble of the creek before he could see it. He smiled when he saw Rowan's dogs curled together, enjoying the sunshine. The pretzel thief didn't wake up. And Rowan's large black dog only opened his liquid brown eyes for a moment. Once he saw that the man approaching was someone that he knew Rowan's sleepy guardian was more than happy to snuggle back into the warm body of the puppy next to him.

The only thing that alarmed Daryl and made him pause was when he spotted what he guessed were Rowan's clothes hanging over the branch of a tree. Whatever she was doing down by the water, she was doing it naked. He was torn between wanting to get a look at her and being nervous that he might startle her. Cocking his head to the side, he listened carefully. He could hear her singing. His body moved towards the sound like it was no longer being controlled by his mind.

His boots didn't make any sound as he walked slowly through the soft grass. The sunlight was filtering down through the trees. Rowan was sitting in a large patch of light. Her hair was falling forward, leaving the graceful line of her spine exposed. Her long legs dangled down and swung slightly to the tune of the song she was singing. Like Daryl had assumed when he saw her clothes hanging from the tree, she was completely naked. Rowan looked so beautiful and natural that for a moment Daryl was sure she was a selkie. Only a woman on land, once she dove back into the water she would turn back into a seal. If he could find her seal skin he might prevent her from returning to the water and take her home with him to be his wife. It was just a silly story he had read in a book he borrowed from the library but in that moment he was certain that it was true.

Before Daryl knew what he was doing, his feet had carried him right up to the water's edge. He stood there staring down at her, his tounge stuck to the roof of his mouth. So many words were forming in his mind. The first of them being an apology for his sudden presence in her personal space. But when she looked up at him and smiled every word he ever knew disappeared from his mind.

"Good morning Daryl," she gushed. Rowan rose to her feet and picked up the scarf she was sitting on. Daryl expected her to use the garment to cover her nakedness but she only slung it over her shoulders. Her hair was hanging forward, covering her breasts and most of her torso. Not only did she not make any move to cover herself, she slid her hands behind her neck and lifted the long curtain of her hair, tossing it behind her back.

She revealed herself to him but she made no move to touch him. Not yet. Her tounge flicked out to wet her lips. Her one hand rose up to toy with a bit of fringe on the edge of her shall. Time seemed to slow down and speed up at the same time. Daryl couldn't stop his eyes from roaming over her body and taking in all the little details of her. From the chipped polish in her toenails all the way up to the stray turkey feather that had gotten caught in her hair. The tops of her breasts were freckled but the soft undersides of them were pale and creamy. Her pointed nipples were the same soft shade of pink as her lips. The dark patch of hair between her legs looked as soft and silky as the hair on her head.

Every second that ticked by without him touching her felt like a thousand years of waiting. But finally his hand started to slowly rise. Rowan forced herself to keep perfectly still, only the rapid rise and fall of her chest revealing how anxious she was to be devoured. Daryl was staring down at her breasts like they were hypnotizing him. His hand was shaking as he reached forward to touch her. She waited as long as she could stand it before her back arched her chest forward, pushing the tender flesh of her breast into his hand. He didn't squeeze or grab at her. His touch was feather light and when the rough pad of his thumb stroked over the hard bud of her nipple she felt an involutary moan float out from between her lips.

The soft sound that escaped her lips was the spark that started the fire between them blazing. Daryl's lips crushed down on hers, sucking the air from her lungs. The only time they stopped kissing was when he pulled the shall from her shoulders and turned to spread it out over a soft patch of grass. The soft breeze made the tall wildflowers around them dance. The birds were silent in the trees.

Rowan noticed that while he was more than happy to let her rid him of his boots and pants, Daryl hesitated when she grabbed for the hem of his shirt. She sunk to her knees in front of him, grasping the base of his erection with her hand and pulling it away from the hard muscles of his stomach so she could plant a small wet kiss on the tip of it. Starting down near her hand, she traced up the length of him before letting him sink the hard throbbing tip into her mouth. She took as much of him into her mouth as she could without gagging.

Once she had let him thrust into her mouth, Daryl's fear and embarrassment over his scars melted away. He let Rowan pull him down onto the ground with her and when she said she wanted to feel his skin on hers he yanked his shirt off over his head and tossed it away into the grass. He lay down on his back and let her roll on top of him. Her hair fell down on either side of her head when she leaned forward to kiss him. With her on top he had both of his hands free to touch her. Daryl rubbed and grabbed at every part of her body he had been wanting to touch since the moment he saw her. He ran his hand up and down the length of her slender thighs. He touched her breasts, pincing at the hard points of her upturned nipples until she was writhing and squirming on top of him. He could feel the heat from between her legs against the base of his stomach. And she was whispering things to him between kisses, telling him how much she wanted him and how good he was making her feel. _I need you. I need you inside me so bad it hurts._ He had never had a girl say anything like that to him before.

Grabbing her by the hips, he lifted and moved her body until the head of his dick was pressing against her opening. She was so wet he could feel the spot on his stomach were a tiny puddle of her slick fluid had dripped out of her. And the smell that was coming off her wet heat was driving him over the edge of self control. She smelled womanly and earthy at the same time. Like fresh pine needles and heaven mixed together.

He sunk into her slowly, inching in to make sure he didn't hurt her. Enough girls had made comments about the size of his manhood that Daryl knew he was larger than average. Rowan hadn't remarked on it. Daryl got the feeling from her that it wouldn't have matter to her if he had a penis the size of a pinky or and anaconda in his pants. She only liked what was between his legs because it was attached to him. That made him feel good in way he didn't know was possible. Feeling cared about and accepted for himself was new for him.

Daryl let go of Rowan's hips. He didn't want to just start slamming into her, he wanted to let her go at her own pace. She was tall, but her frame was small and delicate. He was scared her might hurt her. Rowan stopped kissing him and sat up. She braced her hands against his chest and arched her back. After a little shift of her hips she sunk down onto him with a low moan like she was sinking into a warm bath. Her fingers curved in and her nails dug just slightly into the flesh of his chest. One rotation of her hips and her walls were shuddering around him, the insides of her flooding with heat and fluid.

That was new. In addition to her sweet flowy version of dirty talk, having a girl orgasm the moment he thrust inside her was also a foreign experience. Rowan's arms went limp and she collapsed against his chest, mumbling an incoherrent and very half hearted apology. Daryl couldn't stop himself from chuckling a little at her performance and at himself for being nervous that he wouldn't be able to please her.

Holding her gently against his chest, Daryl rolled Rowan onto her back and reached down to lift her legs so they were wrapped around his waist. She was perfectly content to lay under him, staring up at his face as he rolled his hips into hers. Her orgasm made her insides even more sensitive than they had been before and each time Daryl thrust inside her it sent a wave of pleasure rippling through her that was so strong it was difficult for her to see straight. She focused on his face and the aura around his head that was gradually changing color. The pale blues and greys that normally surrounded him were dissipating to make way for the flood of reds and oranges that came with being in a passionate embrace. When he came his aura exploded with lightning streaks of red so deep and dark that they were the exact color of the sunflower Rowan had picked for him earlier that morning.

 **** The song lyrics in this chapter are from the song My Pretty Irish Girl. Sean Connery sings it to Janet Munro in the movie Darby O'Gill and the Little People. Later in the movie she sings it to herself in the mirror when she's getting ready. Several versions of it are on youtube if anyone would like to check it out, it's adorable and she even wears a little fringed shall when she's going to meet him. ****


	17. Chapter 17

Big Yellow Taxi

Chapter 17

When both of them were out of steam, Daryl rolled off and collapsed onto his back. Rowan turned, tucking herself into his side and resting her head on his chest. She remembered what Ayla said about Daryl's brother wanting to get away from her immediately after they got done making love. For a moment Rowan felt her body go tense as she wondered if what she was doing was alright or if she ought to back off and give the man next to her some space. She had already begun to inch back when she felt Daryl's arm wrap around her waist, pulling her closer to him.

"Where do ya think yer goin'?," he teased. Rowan hummed her contentment and relaxed against the hard planes of his body. He really was a spectacular hunk of a man, hard and buldging in all the right places. She hadn't even know until she met him that she would find a man of his build and stature so appealing. Just thinking about how strong his arms felt wrapped around her was almost enough to get the blood between her legs pumping again.

Rowan nuzzled into the rough stubble of his jaw line, pressing a gentle kiss on the sensitive skin under his ear. He turned his head and captured her mouth with his. The kiss felt different than it had before they made love. All the heat was still there between them, but the frantic urgency was gone. He kissed her gently, his tounge slipping past her lips to leisurely explore her mouth as he stroked up and down the length of her spine with the tip of his finger. The kiss ended with a few lingering pecks on her cheek and the side of her mouth.

"Happy?," he asked. Rowan hummed and nodded her head. Happy couldn't even begin to describe how she was feeling. If she could summon the energy in her spent body to drag herself into a standing position she felt like she could spread her arms and fly.

"Don't know what I'm going to do with the rest of my day now...," she teased. "I was planning to take you out to my father's hunting cabin and seduce you."

Daryl didn't make any noise but Rowan could feel his body shaking with silent laughter. He lifted a lock of her long hair and tickled her with the end of it until she was laughing with him. Without warning he flipped her onto her back and pounced on her.

"I'll be doin' the seducin' around here," he teased as he leaned in and nibbled at her neck and shoulders. Rowan squirmed and shrieked in delight. She had expected Daryl to be sexy but she hadn't expected that she would have so much fun with him. He had been so shy and reserved the day before. She liked this new side of him. It made her feel like she could be silly with him and not have to worry about what he thought of her.

Rowan's shrieks brought Tank galloping to her side. The large dog inched closer to the entwined limbs of the couple as a low warning growl issued from his throat. Daryl turned and grinned at the large dog, intent on having a little fun with the animal. He grabbed for Rowan's wrists and pinned them down on either side of her head. Then he leaned down and started kissing and nibbling at all the most ticklish spots on her body. She giggled and hollered at him to let her go. Tank didn't know what to make of the situation so he started barking and howling. Lily rushed over and jumped on them both in her eagerness to get in on the fun they were having. She scratched Daryl across the back with her puppy claws.

"Get back Lily," Rowan hollered at the naughty dog. She leaped up and helped Daryl to his feet, darting around him to make sure Lily hadn't broken the skin when she jumped on him. That was when Rowan saw it. The reason Daryl had been hesitant to take off his shirt. His back was covered in scars. Some were old and so faded they were barely visible while others were still red and raised up from the rest of his skin. Rowan fought the urge to suck in her breath at the sight of the horrible scars. She knew in that moment if she reacted badly she was going to lose Daryl's trust. And that was something she never wanted to happen. Not ever.

"Don't worry," Rowan anounced. She knew her voice was a little more cheerful than necessary but she was having a hard time coping with what she was seeing. "Lily just scratched you a little, she didn't break the skin." Daryl spun around. He saw the forced smile on Rowan's face. She had seen his scars and was doing her best not to react. While most people looked morbidly curious when they saw his back, Rowan looked terrified. He found himself eager to comfort her. And oddly eager to tell her the truth about the marks on his body. A subject which he never spoke about aloud to anyone. Not even Merle. To speak of their father was to raise the man's evil spirit from his grave. It was bad enough that a part of that man still lived on inside them both.

"Hey," Daryl said, placing his arm around her and pulling Rowan's body close to his, "It's alright. I'm alright." He debated a moment on how much more to say. Rowan came from a peaceful place. From her reaction to the marks on his body he guessed she had never seen someone being beaten or struck in anger in all her life. He didn't want to give her nightmares about his childhood. He already had enough of them himself.

"Not all dads are like yours," Daryl explained gently, "mine liked his booze. And when he drank he got mean." Rowan wrapped her arms around Daryl and hugged him like she thought if she held on tight enough that she could erase all the evil that had ever been done to him.

"Where is he now?," Rowan asked, suddenly feeling terrified of a man that she had never even met.

"Dead," Daryl replied without a trace of emotion in his voice.

"Good." The word was out of Rowan's mouth before she could stop herself. She looked up at Daryl, in shock at the nasty thing she had said to him about his father. She even clamped her hand down over her own mouth like she was afraid she might say something worse. Peeling her hand away she started to immediately apologize for her rude comment. Thats when she realized Daryl was laughing. He grabbed her again and hugged her, laughing into her hair. Telling Rowan the truth had felt so much better than he expected. It was like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. But it was the shocked look on her face when she had blurted out that she was glad his father was dead that really set him off. The way she acted it was like she had never said an unkind word about anyone in all of her life. She was too sweet for words.

Daryl got control over his fit of laughter. He was dying to change the subject. Daryl didn't regret letting her under his skin a little. But his childhood wasn't something he wanted to discuss at any great length.

"So since we already fucked," he teased, "does that mean I don't get to see yer dad's cabin now?" Rowan giggled. She had never heard anyone use such a foul word to describe something so beautiful in all her life. But she had to admit the idea of fucking instead of making love sounded wonderfully naughty. She liked Daryl's rough way of speaking. And if that was his idea of fucking then she would take it over poetry and roses any day of the week.

"Do you want to go?," she asked, the excitement obvious in her voice. Daryl nodded. He actually did want to go. He wanted to go anywhere Rowan wanted to take him. But checking out a hunting cabin actually sounded like it might be a lot of fun. He only had one hesitation. He didn't have any of his hunting gear with him. Not even his bow. If he was going to a hunting cabin he thought he might like to do a little hunting.

TWD

Rowan shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Her eyebrows knitted together. Her hair was twisted into a tight braid that hung down her back. Under her dress she was wearing a pair of jeans that were ripped at the knees but fitted around the ankle as Daryl had suggested. She was also wearing a pair of sunglasses that she had borrowed from Ayla's room to protect her eyes. Daryl's jacket felt good wrapped around her shoulders. But Rowan still wasn't sure how she felt about climbing up behind him on his motorcycle. She didn't even really like letting Aaron peddle her around on the basket of his bicycle.

"S'alright," Daryl assured her, "I'll drive slow." He held his hand out to her. Rowan nibbled at her bottom lip as she regarded his bike like it was some sort of fire breathing dragon. Her nervousness didn't annoy him. Quite the opposite it made her seem like an ordinary girl instead of some sort of fairy creature that was going to disappear the moment he closed his eyes.

Rowan took his hand. There was never any chance she wasn't going to take Daryl's hand when he offered it to her. The pride he had in his motorcycle was obvious. He had built it himself. The fact that he wanted to share it with her made her feel warm and tingly inside. The idea of riding it made her feel significantly less excited. She swung her leg over the large hunk of machinery and scooted as close as she could to the man in front of her.

"I don't know what to do," she admitted. Daryl twisted around and pressed a lingering kiss to her lips.

"Just hold on tight to me," he told her. Rowan smiled, catching his face between her palms and kissing him one more time before he turned back around to face the front of the bike. If all she had to do was hold on to him she was pretty sure she could handle that.

Daryl gripped the handlebars of the bike and lifted up one foot. He stomped down on a pedal that Rowan hadn't known was there. The metal beast between her legs sprung to life with a deafening roar. Rowan wrapped her arms around Daryl and scooted just a fraction closer to him. When the bike started to move she gripped in tight with her thighs, scared she might fall off despite Daryl's assurances that riding on a bike was perfectly safe.

As they pulled down the main drive a few people that were walking to the side of the road stopped and stared. Rowan would have waved at them if she wasn't so afraid to let go with even one of her hands. The engine of the bike made and even louder noise as they passed by the people that were gawking at them. Rowan realized Daryl had made the bike louder on purpose and she smiled a little into the back of his shirt.

Rowan had a death grip on the thin fabric of his t-shirt. And she was squeezing his hips with her legs. Daryl had never given a girl her first motorcycle ride before. The fact that she had put her trust in him even though she was scared made him feel good inside. He was proud to have her on the back of his bike. The ride over to his trailer to get his bow wasn't too far. His only regret was that he didn't have a cent to his name. There was a little roadside diner that wasn't too far out of the way. They had cold beers and good burgers there. He knew it probably wasn't really Rowan's type of place but he had the strong urge to take her on an official date. Like that would somehow solidify that they were working towards some type of real relationship and not just hooking up after a party.

Daryl pulled his bike into the small driveway on the side of his trailer. He cut off the motorcycle engine and swung his leg over. Once he was standing he took Rowan's hand to help her. She managed to swing her leg over but then her legs seemed to almost buckle under her as she attempted to stand. Daryl caught her before she crumpled to the ground and held her until she was steady on her feet. She reached down and rubbed at the insides of her thighs, trying to return some of the feeling to her legs.

Daryl helped her up the rickety wooden steps, forgetting his worries about what she might think about the beat up trailer he called home for the present. She stretched her body out and danced from one foot to the other before she reached down and rubbed at the insides of her thighs again.

"My legs hurt," she said, "is that normal?" Daryl chewed at the skin on his thumb for a moment before he knelt down in front of her.

"Lemme see," he told the woman. Rowan unbuttoned her jeans, wriggling as she slid them down over her hips. Once they were scrunched up around her knees Daryl took a look at the area of her legs that she had been rubbing at. He sucked in his breath as he examined the bruises that were already welling up all along the insides of both her thighs. "Fuckin' hell," he cursed. She had been gripping onto him and his bike so tightly with her legs that she had marked her tender flesh right up. Daryl hadn't caused Rowan's injuries on purpose but he couldn't help but feel responsible for them just the same. She looked like a rape victim.

Rowan was looking down at him, the concern over the cause of his foul language written on her face. Daryl smiled up at her. "Ya were grippin' on so tight with yer legs ya bruised them up," he told her. That made her smile and she giggled a little bit at herself. "Got to try and relax on the way back, m'kay?"

"I'll try," she said with a small nod of her head. She had been scared to ride Daryl's bike with him. But it had been sort of fun. The heavy vibration of the engine, having Daryl's body so close to hers, and the adrenaline that had been surging through her. It was sexy and exciting at the same time, like the man himself.

Daryl was still kneeling on the floor in front of her. Rowan reached out and twined her fingers into his hair. He looked up at her, the concerned look on his face fading as it was quickly replaced with a look of longing and desire. He leaned forward and planted a kiss on the insides of each one of her thighs, finishing with a hot breathy kiss on the patch of silky black hair between them. She could feel the press of his lips through her lace panties. But it was just a gentle peck. More like a promise of more to come later than foreplay.

As Daryl rose from the floor Rowan leaned down and tugged her jeans back up. She hadn't really looked around the place until that moment. Daryl's trailer looked more like a place to keep the rain off than a real home. Instead of being unimpresssed, Rowan felt encouraged by this. The nicer and more lived in his home was the more chance she figured there was of him not wanting to leave it.

Ever since she had seen Daryl showing off the bike he built to the man that bought her dog the wheels in Rowan's head had started turning. Twin Oaks needed a new mechanic. The community tended to attract artistic types. Not people that were skilled in hard manual labor. She wasn't ready to cross that bridge yet but she was hoping Daryl might be the one to fufill that position. Everything happened for a reason. There was no such thing as coincidence. And deep down in her heart Rowan was already starting to hope that Daryl might want to stay and make a home in her community.


	18. Chapter 18

Big Yellow Taxi

Chapter 18

The motorcycle ride back to her home went better than the ride away from it had gone. Rowan wasn't as nervous as she had been before and she was able to relax enough to enjoy the wind whipping in her hair as they rode. While they were at Daryl's trailer he had packed a small bag. Rowan forced herself not to get too excited and certainly not to comment on it, but she had noticed that Daryl had packed several days worth of clothing. She hoped that meant he planned to stay with her a while.

Daryl's things were packed for their spontaneous camping trip but Rowan needed to stop at her house and pack a bag for herself. She also needed to collect her dogs before Lily drove her mother crazy running around and chewing things up. To Daryl's horror they arrived just as both of Rowan's parents were sitting down for a picnic lunch on the lawn near one of the herb gardens. Of course they invited the young couple to join them. Daryl wasn't really an expert on proper etiquette but even he had enough sense to know that turning them down would have been unforgivably rude.

He was hungry. But not only had Daryl never eaten a meal with a girl's parents before, he had never even been introduced to a girl's parents before. His general appearance and demeanor didn't exactly scream take me home to meet your mother. He wasn't sure if he was going to be able to eat anything even though the simple food looked and smelled delicious. Tomato sandwiches with large slices of ripe watermelon, both were a rare treat for him.

Daryl was tense and nervous, but after a few minutes he was able to relax. He had been expecting Rowan's parents to bombard him with questions that he would rather not answer like he was at some sort of hellish job interview. But that didn't happen at all. Daryl sat next to Rowan and ate his watermelon in silence while she and her father caught up on what they had missed in each other's lives over the last year. Her father talked a bit about the new casino that was going up on his reservation and the mixed feelings he had about it. Rowan talked to her father about her animals, about how the summer's harvest had gone, and about some new hydroponic tomato gardening business venture that she was helping Aaron and Eric with.

Daryl found himself interested in what Rowan was saying and not just because he wanted to sleep with her again. He was pleasantly suprised by her. Daryl thought all girls cared about was stupid shit like clothes and makeup. He had never heard one talk about a bumper crop of strawberries before. While he wasn't much of a gardener Daryl could at least understand and follow the conversation. He liked how serious Rowan was about the subjects she spoke on. And he really enjoyed the expression of sheer joy she got on her face when she talked about her animals.

Rowan headed inside to help her mother clean up the lunch mess, leaving Daryl alone with her father. Daryl tensed up a little, the same way he had when they originally sat down to eat. He had just got done fucking this man's daughter. Who he had only just met the day before. He figured being in that situation would make anyone nervous. But Rowan's father didn't seem to have any interest in discussing Daryl's intentions for his only daughter. Quite the contrary the man had seen Daryl's bow and wanted to talk about hunting.

Hunting was the one subject that Daryl could talk about all day long to anyone that would listen. And having someone who was educated on the subject to talk to made it all the more enjoyable. They talked a little about tracking and the behavior patterns of different animals. Rowan's father made sure to comment on how much he thought Daryl might enjoy a trip out to his reservation, a subtle invitation to visit that was not lost on Daryl. Some people made shallow invitations just to be polite but Daryl got the feeling that this man was not one of them. Daryl could tell the man liked him and it made him feel good inside in the same way that being with Rowan made him feel good. He had never met a group of people that made him feel so accepted before. Like he could just be himself and that was enough for them.

When Rowan reappeared with her dogs and a bag over her shoulder, Daryl and her father were talking about bow hunting. She tried not to laugh. Her father could talk about hunting all day long. The only other subject he was that enthusiastic about was philosophy. What really made her giggle was how engrossed with the conversation Daryl seemed to be. She had no idea that hunting with a longbow and hunting with a crossbow were so different. Rowan was afraid she was going to have to drag the two men apart to get them to stop talking.

To say that Rowan's father never approved of any of her boyfriends was the understatement of the year. He had pretty much hated every single man she had ever introduced him to on sight. To his credit he had never been cruel or demeaning to any of them. He would just patietnly wait until they were gone and he was alone with Rowan. Then he would say the same thing he always said. _He's not the one for you._ And Rowan responded in the same way she always did which was to promptly ignore her father's sound advice. This time was different. She could see it in her father's eyes.

TWD

It was about a five mile walk up to the cabin. And that was from the far edge of one of the larger corn fields. So it was really more like ten miles. Daryl had been concerned for Rowan, unsure if the young woman was used to walking that far in a stretch. But she made the walk without complaint despite the rather unpractical looking beaded leather sandals she was wearing. They had stopped half way through the corn field and picked a few ripe ears of sweet corn to eat later. Rowan also picked Daryl an ear of the most vibrantly colored indian corn he had ever seen. She called it glass gem corn.

The dogs were having a grand time racing around in the woods. Rowan was a little worried about her puppy at first. If Lily ran off and got lost there was a good chance Rowan might never find her again. But soon it became clear that Tank had taken it upon himself to keep an eye on the younger dog, herding her back towards his mistress with a few well placed nips to her hindquarters if she started straying too far away.

Daryl loved the woods the whole year through. But autumn was his favorite season by far. And the woods near Rowan's home were lovely. The leaves were just starting to change color, painting the forest in different shades of red and gold. Daryl had gone hunting with his brother lots of times. But being in the woods with Rowan had a totally different feel to it. Merle was always in a hurry. Rowan's presence by his side was calming. When Daryl stopped her to point out a tree that looked prettier than the rest she didn't mock him in the way that Merle would have. And she didn't pretend to be interested the way another girl might have. She simply enjoyed the scenery with him. As they stared up at the brilliantly scarlet leaves she grabbed his hand, lacing her fingers with his. A peacefullness washed over him. Daryl had never felt anything quite like it before. _I'm right where I need to be._ He wasn't in a hurry to get anywhere or do anything. For maybe the first time in his life he was able to just relax and be present in the moment.

"Look," Rowan whispered, her voice barely audible. She pointed with the hand Daryl wasn't holding, the rest of her body as still as the trees around her. A whole flock of wild turkeys was heading their way, the larger ones leading the way for the smaller birds in the flock. Daryl first impulse was to try and kill one of the birds. He cast a hesitant glance at the woman next to him, unsure of what her reaction would be to such an action. "You should try and get one," Rowan whispered, speaking as if she read the question from his mind.

Daryl moved as slowly and silently as he could, swinging his bow down off his back and pulling the string back. Before he could reach behind him into his bag and grab a bolt Rowan had already done it for him. She held the bolt shaft carefully between her thumb and forefinger bringing the small metal tip up towards her mouth. Daryl almost expected her to kiss it but just before it reached the soft pads of her lips she closed her eyes and blew on it instead. Her long lashes blinked open and her pursed lips curved up into a smile. Daryl couldn't help but smile back as he took the bolt from her hands and loaded it into his bow.

The clunk of the bolt being loosened startled the birds. But by the time the small flock scattered it was already too late for two of them. The bolt had passed through the eye of the first bird and hit the second one straight through the gobble and through the middle of its skinny neck. It was a one in a million shot. One that Daryl was sure he couldn't make again if his life depended on it.

The small flock of birds gathered back together a few yards away only to be pounced on by Rowan's large brown puppy. Lily snapped and barked at the silly fat birds as they flapped up into the trees to get away from her. She sat down at base of the tree where most of them had flown into to hide and let out a mournful howl. Rowan laughed. Lily wanted the birds to come back and play with her some more.

"Com'ere Lily," Daryl called, "got an extra bird just for you." Lily raced over, eager for whatever the man had to offer. Daryl made her sit and wait while he started field dressing the larger of the two birds. He pulled his hunting knife from it's sheath and flipped the bird over onto it's back, wringing it's neck a little first to make sure it was all the way dead and not still dying.

To Daryl's great shock and surprise Rowan dropped to her knees beside him and grabbed the smaller turkey by the feet, dragging it over in front of her. She rummaged through her bag before pulling out a very ornate looking knife. The sheath was fringed leather and covered in blue and white beads. It looked more like something that would be displayed in a glass case rather than put to everyday use. But when she pulled the knife out the blade looked sharp and servicable enough. She got about halfway done dressing the bird when she looked up to find that Daryl was staring at her with his mouth hanging wide open.

"What?," she asked, a giggle escaping from between her lips.

"Where'd ya learn ta do that?," Daryl asked her.

"I do live on a farm," she teased, reminding Daryl of what he already knew about her before adding some new information. "And even if I didn't, my dad taught me a long time ago."

Daryl snapped his open mouth shut and smiled at her. He had seen Rowan pick up a live chicken without any fear so he should have guessed she would know what to do with a dead one. But seeing such a pretty girl reach inside a turkey and pull the guts out of it without hesitation struck him as unusual and almost magical. _Where did she come from?_ He liked it. And he had the strong urge to pull her close to him and kiss her. So he did it. Rowan held him awkwardly, not wanted to smear his clothing with raw turkey guts. But her lips parted eagerly to accept his probing tounge.

A high pitched noise squeaked out of her and Rowan yanked away from Daryl just in time to stop Lily from making off with the turkey she had been dressing. Rowan scolded the dog but there was no real anger behind her tone. Lily yipped and dashed off to go find Tank, leaving Rowan to shake her head at what a silly dog she was.

"You hunt with your dad a lot?," Daryl asked. No longer sitting in awe at what Rowan was doing he looked down and got to work on the bird he was taking care of.

"Not that much anymore," Rowan answered, adding a shrug of her shoulders. "They do a big ceremonial hunt on his reservation every year. So I still go to that... But we don't go hunting together very much anymore. I'm not really sure why."

During the last two summers that Rowan had visited her father he had been much more interested in introducing her to men from his reservation that he hoped she might take a liking to. And there was always someone there to visit with. Or cook with. Or do crafts with. Her father never really came out and said it but she guessed that maybe in his community it wasn't considered proper anymore for a woman of her age to be running around out in the woods trying to kill things with tiny pointy sticks. Most of the sioux women her age already had a few children running around to care for. Rowan had never been a very good hunter but she missed the bonding time that the sport had given her with her father.

"I'll take ya huntin' anytime you want," Daryl offered. He immediately regretted his words. The bold statement popped right out of his mouth before he had a chance to think and decide it was a stupid thing to say. It wasn't like him to offer to take a girl anywhere, let alone hunting. But Rowan's face lit up with such a beautiful smile that he ended up being happy about what he said.

"I'm better at the butchering than I am at hitting what I aim for," she warned with a musical laugh. Daryl laughed with her. Since their conversation was going well he decided to take a risk and ask her something else.

"What were you doin' before," he asked, "when ya blew on the end of my bolt."

"Showing you what I plan to do to your other bolt later," Rowan told him with a wiggle of her dark eyebrows. It took Daryl a few seconds to figure out what she was implying, during which his entire face turned red. She came off so sweet and innocent that Daryl was sure for a moment that he must have misunderstood her. There was no way she was making a joke about blow jobs. Then she cast a pointed look down at the crotch of his pants.

Rowan had never seen a man Daryl's age blush over sex before. Particularly one she had already slept with. It was just about the sexiest thing she had ever seen. And the sweetest. Rowan leaned forward and kissed him. The tip of her tounge flicked out to trace the line of his lips before she backed off a fraction of an inch and blew on them the same way she had blown on the tip of his crossbow bolt. He kissed her back but she pulled away before the kiss could get any more serious. If they sat around kissing all afternoon they were never going to make it to her father's cabin.

"Want to know the real reason I blew on it?," Rowan asked, sitting back on her folded legs. Daryl nodded. He liked the pretend reason she had made up but he was still curious as to what her real reason was. People all had their own rituals to ensure a successful hunt but blowing on the tip of an arrow was one he had never seen before. "I was giving it Okaga's wind," Rowan explained. The name was unfamiliar to Daryl and spoken with a thicker accent than the rest of Rowan's words. "She's the goddess of the south winds," Rowan added, "I gave the bolt the goddess's breath to make sure it would fly true."

"Damn and I thought I was just that good of a shot," Daryl joked. He picked the bolt up from where he had tossed it and turned it around in his hands, examining it. "Ya think ya could blow on all uh'my bolts like that?," he asked. He was only half joking. Daryl didn't believe in magic or goddesses or whoever Rowan had been talking about but he did believe in good luck. And Rowan seemed to have enough of that to afford giving just a little bit away.

"I'll do better than that," Rowan said, plucking a stay turkey feather up from between her knees, "I'll blow on your bow." With that said she placed the feather in her flattened palm and blew, sending it up into the air. It swirled around in the small space between them, caught in a whirling draft that neither of Rowan nor Daryl could feel. As the feather floated closer to him, Daryl raised his hand and held it open. The feather fluttered down, settling onto his open palm like that's where it had been heading all along.


	19. Chapter 19

Big Yellow Taxi

Chapter 19

The cabin didn't have electricity or indoor plumbing. But what it lacked in modern amenities the small building made up for in character. It was the sort of place Daryl had always invisioned in his mind when he pictured himself finally having a home to call his own, right down to the small bits of moss that needed to be cleaned off the roof and the giant stone chimney that took up almost an entire outer wall. There was even a little shack out behind the cabin that was set up for butchering larger game than turkeys. For lack of a better word the place was perfect.

Rowan pushed the windows up and swung the backdoor open, allowing the afternoon breeze to blow some fresh air in and move the stale air out. There were enough tall trees around the small yard to offer significant shade. So the cabin was only stuffy inside, not oppressively hot. Still Daryl made the executive decision to cook the turkeys he had snagged earlier over the outdoor firepit inside of building up a fire inside the cabin. Rowan pulled sheets and a handmade quilt from a trunk and draped them over the railing on the covered back porch so they would smell fresh when she used them to make the bed up.

After she did what she could to make the inside of the cabin more pleasant, Rowan headed out onto the back porch. The small shaded area was her father's favorite place to meditate. Crystals of different shapes and sizes hung down from the edge of the covered roof, catching the light of the afternoon sun as they slowy swayed in the afternoon breeze. On one side, an old dreamcatcher dangled between a round blown glass ordament and a milky quartz crystal. Her father had hung it there years ago. Only one faded turkey feather was left swinging from it on a well worn strip of leather.

Blue and pink morning glories clung to the railing, their blooms tightly closed against the heat of the day. Rowan eased herself down into her father's meditation chair and lifted her tired feet up to rest them on the edge of the railing. Tank had found a sunny spot in the yard to lay down. But Lily was still full of energy. Rowan laughed as she watched the puppy follow Daryl around the yard like a large tan shadow. Daryl was pulling logs from the wood pile under the porch, stacking them up in the shape of a rough looking teepee in the firepit.

Rowan felt lazy just sitting and watching Daryl work. She felt like she ought to get up and make herself useful. But for the moment she was getting so much enjoyment out of watching Daryl haul logs that she stayed where she was, shading her eyes against the afternoon sun to improve her view of the man. He had already pulled his shirt off and tossed it on top of the small picinic table next to the two turkeys. His skin was glistening with just the right amount of sweat. Watching the way his muscles flexed and twisted as he moved was enough to make Rowan bring her bare feet down from the railing so she could clench her thighs together.

Once the turkeys were placed carefully inside the large cast iron pot and left to slowly roast in their own juices, Daryl let Rowan talk him into walking the short distance down to the lake for a swim. The day was warm and the water was clear and cool. Daryl realized once they arrived that the lake Rowan had told him about was actually a man made quarry, edged on three sides with walls of rock. He could see deep down into the clear water where the larger sized fish were swimming slowly in large schools.

Rowan and Daryl shed what little clothes they still had on, leaving them in a pile on the small rocky beach. There was a small floating dock anchored a short swim out into the water. Rowan was so graceful on land that Daryl expected her to swim like a mermaid. In actuality her technique was something closer to a modified dog paddle. Still she made it to the floating dock only a few moments after he arrived. Her dogs were still on shore, barking and chasing each other in and out of the shallow water.

Daryl could see Rowan's naked body, only slightly distorted by the ripples in the water. He braced himself, holding onto the dock with one hand and reaching for her with the other. Rowan eagerly surrendered herself to his embrace, wrapping her arms around his neck to keep herself afloat. Their kisses were gentler and less hurried than they had been earlier that morning by the creek. But it didn't take long before their bodies entertwined under the surface of the cool water.

"Let's go back," Rowan suggested. She was already tired from the long walk to get to the cabin. He wasn't showing any signs of fatigue but she guessed that Daryl had to be feeling slightly worn out himself. If they stayed and consummated their passion out in the water, she was worried they might not have the energy to swim back to shore.

Daryl nodded in agreement. He let go of the dock first, swimming slowly back towards shore so that he could keep Rowan within arms reach. The swim back to shore took longer than the swim out had. As much as he would have liked to stay by the dock and finish what they had started he ended up being glad that Rowan had suggested they go back when she did. Daryl was tired and winded by the time his feet touched down on the rocky shore.

They hadn't thought to bring towels. Rowan decided to walk naked and let the sun dry her off on way back and Daryl couldn't think of any reason to object. He carried the small bundle of clothing they had worn down to the beach in one arm and held tightly to Rowan's hand with the other. She had tied her hair up into a sloppy bun on top of her head before they entered the water. Once the warm afternoon air had dried her body she pulled her long hair loose from the small elastic that held it in place and let it tumble down to cover her naked breasts. Her hand was small and warm in his calloused grasp. Daryl had never been keen on hand holding but he found he liked the physical connection he felt with the woman at his side. Being near her. Touching her. Walking with her hand in his. It all felt natural and right. There was no where else in the world he wanted to be.

Unwilling to take the time to make the bed properly, the moment they stepped foot back inside the cabin Daryl pulled Rowan down onto the bare mattress with him. Soft whimpering sighs rose out of her as he kissed the insides of her thighs where dark bruises were forming from earlier that day when she had gripped his motorcycle too tightly between her long legs. Her hands fisted into his hair, tugging gently at the roots. When he found her already slick opening with a flick of his tounge, Rowan arched her back and began to murmur soft words of enjoyment in a language that Daryl was certain wasn't english and didn't need to be. It was easy enough to guess what she was saying between the moans.

As the waves of pleasure washed over her, Rowan pulled Daryl up. His mouth found hers and she could taste herself on his lips. She rolled her hips to the side so he could enter her from behind and avoid causing further bruising to the insides of her pale thighs. The love they made was less hurried and frenzied than it had been earlier that morning. But even the slower pace left her gasping for breath and gripping his hand in hers. The sensation of him filling her sensitive and already quivering insides was so intensely pleasurable that it bordered on the edge of being painful. She was grateful for Daryl's strong arms and how securely he held her against his chest. Without the strength of his grip Rowan felt as if she might float away on the next strong breeze that passed through the open window.

Other than a few low moans, Daryl had been quiet as he made love to her. But when he finally found his release it was with a shudder of his body and a loud groan that came out sounding more like a feral growl. He held Rowan close, covering the back of her slender neck with small kisses.

"Y'alright?," Daryl whispered once he had recovered enough to find his voice again. Rowan hummed her total and complete fufillment, only moving to snuggle in closer to him. They both lay still, listening to the sound of their heartbeats slowing down together and the quiet noises of the forest animals that could be hear outside the windows of the cabin. Birds began their evening songs and down by the waters edge frogs were starting to croak. Rowan had so much she wanted to say. Mostly she wanted to tell Daryl how handsome and sexy and wonderful she thought he was. But she didn't speak for fear that she would break the beautiful spell that had fallen over them both. She knew she would question the conviction later when her senses returned. But in that moment she was sure she had found the man she was meant to spend the rest of her life with.

It was the growl of Daryl's stomach that finally cracked the comfortable silence between them. Rowan giggled.

"Hungry?," she asked. Daryl kissed her neck again and nodded his head. "Good," Rowan added, "because I'm starving." Now it was Daryl's turn to laugh at her as Rowan's stomach picked up the protest and let out a small and very unladylike grumble of it's own.

Since it seemed wrong to eat the turkey without any other accompaniments, Rowan poked around inside the cabin until she found enough ingredients to make a simple dish that she knew well enough not to mess up. Fry bread was the first thing Rowan ever learned how to cook. Her father's grandmother had stood her on a chair in her kitchen when she was still too small to reach the counter and taught her how to make the classic native american dish the same way her grandmother had taught her. Rowan hoped one day to teach the recipe to her own grandchildren. But for the present she had a good time teaching Daryl how to make it. They made of mess of themselves with the thick sticky dough, dropping it carefully into the hot turkey grease where it fried up into large thick cripsy pancakes.

By the time they finished eating, the sun was sinking low in the sky. The warm afternoon had given way to the cooler air of the fall evening. Daryl plucked a large smoldering log from the outdoor firepit and carefully carried it inside, using it to light a small cozy fire inside the cabin. Rowan pulled an old dusy bottle of blackberry wine from a mostly empty rack that was leaning against the wall near a bookshelf full of musty old paperbacks.

Daryl sat in an old overstuffed easy chair in front of the fire. Lily curled up near his feet. Rowan sat on the floor, leaning back on Tank, using the large dog as a pillow. They sipped the wine from little jelly jars and talked. After a drink and a half, Daryl felt comfortable enough to ask Rowan a little more about her childhood and her general lifestyle. She seemed happy to answer his questions. He enjoyed how open and straightforward she was. Rowan asked Daryl a few questions about his own upbringing but she didn't press him for more information than he wanted to give.

When Rowan's head started nodding off to the side, Daryl rose and gathered the sleepy woman up into his arms. He carried her the short distance to the freshly made bed. Once there, they crawled under the covers together. Before Daryl could even ask her if she was comfortable or warm enough, she was fast asleep against with her rosemary scented head against his chest. Daryl held her warm body in his arms, pulling the quilt up to cover her shoulders to keep their combined body heat in.

The wine had relaxed his mind along with his body. For the first time in longer than he could remember, Daryl fell asleep feeling hopeful. He had been letting his life run over him like a river and finally the tide had led him to something good. Rowan was like a sudden beam of sunshine in the grey cloudless existence of his life. Now that he had her, he wasn't ever going to ler her go.


End file.
